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Photographic 

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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

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MKS    ,S    R'CRAJIAM    CLARK 

-^  .i'i.>r  of 
Vei.i;^  W.i;t.,tri  »■  ...,,.11..,,  .J 

1  lit:    Irtpi,'    ('' 


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HERBERT  GARDENELL'S 
CHILDREN 


MRS  S'  RjfeRAHAM  CLARK 

Author  of 
Yensie  Walton 
Ven.ie  Walton's  Womanhood 
Achor 
The  Triple  E 

■lid  others 


"  It  is  no  dream, 
No  castle-buildiiiK  time,  that  we  call  life, 
To  catch  the  gleam 
Of  heaven  in  the  strife, 
Our  toil  must  tend  to  reach  the  better  life." 


BOSTON 
D     LOTHROP     COMPANY 

FRANKLIN   AND   HAWLEY   STREETS 


W' 


"^ 


"v^i     ^ 


>t 


\ 


CorvmoHTi  1888 

BY 
D.  LOTHROF  CoMPAHTf. 


^ 


.^ 


4. 


^. 


t 


TO 

£.   G.   C. 

MY  "ONE  CHOICE  GIRLIE" 
THIS   BOOK   IS   DEDICATED   BV  MOTHER 

S.  R.  G.  C. 


i 


CONTENTS. 


ClIAPTBR 

Paoi 

I. 

Onf  choice  girlie 7 

11. 

A  minister's  daughter,  too 

20 

III. 

In  disgrace  again 

3' 

IV. 

Under  the  white  flag     . 

4« 

V. 

Tommy  

56 

VI. 

Hardly  good  enough  to  die  ^ 

fOUN 

a 

73 

VII. 

Miss  Olive's  request 

83 

VIII. 

A   STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT 

91 

IX. 

A    LITTLE  ADVOCATE        . 

107 

X. 

Perhaps 

"3 

XI. 

Trying  to  be  good 

'3* 

XII. 

Trying  to  fly     . 

•47 

XIII. 

At  Bloomingle    . 

I6s 

XIV. 

In  Thee  we  trust 

180 

XV. 

The  danger  past 

198 

XVI. 

Better  and  worse 

207 

XVII. 

An  urgent  appeal 

219 

XVIII. 

An  instrument  for  good 

234 

XIX. 

"Time  flies  I"      .... 

244 

XX. 

The  darky  sailor-boy 

261 

XXI. 

Holding  to  the  promise    . 

268 

XXII. 

Cause  for  rejoicing   . 

280 

XXIII. 

Conscience  fully  roused 

291 

XXIV. 

A  worthy  resume 

. 

30s 

k 


I 


■^n 


.. 


\ 


HERBERT    GARDENELL'S 
CHILDREN. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ONE     CHOICE     GIRLIE. 

A  merry  little  maiden  fair, 
With  sky-blue  eyes  and  sunlit  hair, 
A  laughing,  dancing,  merry  sprite 
Whose  funny  views  of  wrong  and  right 
Get  tangled  quite. 

Ethelyn  G . 

A  KNOCK  at  the  saidy  door.  Papa  thought 
-tV  he  recognizee'  it,  but  he  must  be  mis- 
taken ;  it  was  after  school  time.  He  was  not, 
however,  for  at  his  pleasant  "Come!"  there 
appeared  the  rosiest  of  young  faces  peeping  out 
of  the  brownest  of  brown  hoods,  and  his  one 
choice  girlie  said  gaily,  — 

"  Please,  papa  dear,  write  me  an  excuse .' " 
"An   excuse!"  echoed   papa,  consulting   his 
watch.     "Why,  Birdie,  it  is  a  quarter-past  nine. 
What  have  you  been  doing .? " 

7 


X 


8 


ONE   CHOICE    GIRLIE. 


"Coasting."  And  the  little  lady  advanced  to 
the  desk,  and  the  chair  always  standing  beside 
it.     "Do  hurry,  papa,  please." 

"Coasting,  and  forgot  all  about  school!  Is 
that  excusable  .?  Ought  I  to  put  a  premium  on 
your  heedlessness,  Olive?  Did  you  not  hear  the 
bell .' " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  did  not  heed  it!"  Papa  Gardenell 
looked  very  grave.  "My  darling,  you  know  I 
cannot  write  you  an  excuse  under  such  circum- 
stances ;  it  is  inexcusable." 

"  No,  papa,"  coaxingly,  "  no.  Little  girls 
ought  to  exercise ;  it  is  good  for  them.  You 
told  me  yourself,  papa  dear,  that  I  must  take  a 
half-hour's  sliding  every  morning  while  it  lasted. 
You  said  I  would  study  better  for  it." 

"  Certainly,  darling  ;  but  "  — 

"  Papa,"  interrupted  Olive,  "  I  had  to  take  fif- 
teen minutes  of  school  time  or  fall  that  much 
short  of  the  half-hour  you  ordered." 

A  faint  smile  quivered  about  the  gentleman's 


I 


ONE   CHOICE    GIRLIE. 


Ivanced  to 
ing  beside 

:hool !  Is 
emium  on 
it  hear  the 


Gardenell 
u  know  I 
:h  circum- 

ttle  girls 
em.  You 
ist  take  a 
;  it  lasted. 


0  take  fif- 
hat  much 

ntleman's 


lips.  "  I  think  I  did  not  make  a  law  about  your 
sliding,  Olive,"  he  answered.  "I  could  not 
teach  you  to  please  yourself,  even  in  so  laudable 
a  way,  by  stealing  fifteen  minutes  of  school 
time." 

"But,  papa,  some  one  .stole  fifteen  minutes 
of  my  sliding  time,  and  "  — 

"Suffering  wrong  gives  license  for  wrong- 
doing; theft  in  another  excuses  theft  in  my 
girlie.  What  logic!  Daughter,  who  cheated 
you  out  of  fifteen  minutes  this  morning.'" 

"Why,  you  did,  papa,"  opening  wide  her  large 
eyes.  "Don't  you  'member  we  waited  fifteen 
whole  minutes  for  prayers  .'  " 

Then  he  was  the  culprit  his  small  daughter 
was  arraigning  for  trial.  The  smile  on  Mr.  Gar- 
denell's  lips  deepened.  "Then  you  think  me 
responsible  for  your  delinquency  this  morning, 
Olive  > "  he  questioned. 

"Why,  yes,  papa,  don't  you.?  You  told  me 
yourself  little  girls  needed  out-door  exercise  as 
much  as  boys,  and  you  wished  me  to  take  a  half- 


10 


ONE   CHOICE    GIRLIE. 


hour  every  morning.     Then  if  you  cheated  me 
out  of  fifteen  minutes  I  had  to  make  it  up." 

Papa's  eyes  were  very  uncomfortable;  Olive's 
slowly  dropped. 

"Do   you    really  think  you    have   taken    the 
spirit  of  my  ommand,  little  daughter,  or  only 
the  letter.^"  he  asked  gravely.     Then  proceed- 
ing: "Mr.  Sheaves  called  to  consult  me  on  a 
very   important   question    that   would    bear  no 
delay.     My  time  is  not  my  own,  but  the  Lord's, 
and   he   wished   Mr.    Sheaves   to   have   it  just 
then.     Apply  this  rule  to  yourself.     Was   that 
fifteen    minutes    after   nine   my  daughter's    or 
not.?    Had  she  a  right  to  do  with   it  as  she 
pleased } " 

Olive  was  silent,  and  her  father  continued, 
"I  think  you  have  only  cheated  yourself,  littli 
girlie.  Your  body  would  not  have  suffered  for 
the  loss  of  that  fifteen  minutes  of  exercise." 

"And  I'm  sure  my  brain  won't,"  half-laughed 
the  naughty  child.  "Papa,  they  don't  do  a 
thing  but  read  the  Bible  and  pray  and  sing  the 


■hi 


ONE   CHOICE   GIRLIE. 


II 


cheated  me 
it  up." 
3le;  Olive's 

taken   the 
er,  or  only 
n  proceed- 
t  me  on  a 
1    bear  no 
he  Lord's, 
ve   it  just 
Was  that 
jhter's    or 
it  as  she 

:ontinued, 
self,  little 
ffered  for 
cise." 
f-laughed 
n't  do  a 
sing  the 


first  fifteen  minutes  of  school.     I  sha'n't  miss 
that ;  I  get  lots  of  it  at  home." 

Mr.  Gardenell  sighed,  and  dropped  his  head 
on  his  hand  a  minute. 

"Papa,"  — a  little  impatiently —  " papa,  I'm 
being  cheated  out  of  lots  more  time.  Please 
give  me  my  note  and  let  me  go." 

"You  think  I  ought  to  write  you  this  billet, 
Olive .? "  he  asked,  looking  into  her  face. 

"Yes,  papa,  I  do ;  I  really  and  truly  do.  I 
meant  to  be  honest  with  myself  and  make  up 
the  time  some  one  took  from  me,  and  fifteen 
minutes  of  sliding  seems  'zactly  as  good  to  me 
as  fifteen  minutes  of  school." 

Mr.  Gardenell  took  his  pen  and  a  slip  of 
paper.  As  he  wrote  he  said  :  "  With  me,  Olive, 
this  does  not  excuse  your  conduct;  I  feel  yoj 
were  wrong.  Nevertheless,  as  you  hold  me 
responsible,  I  yield  in  so  far:  you  had  an 
opportunity  this  morning,  and  lost  it.  Fifteen 
minutes  for  pleasure  or  duty,  which.?  I  fear 
you  have  forfeited  both." 


12 


ONE   CHOICE   GIRLIE. 


"Why,  no,  papa,  I  made  up  the  fun." 
"And    have    it    to    remember,"   he    replied 
gravely,  passing  her  the  note.    "  Now,  daughter, 
I  have  pleased  you ;  can  you  do  as  much  for  me  ? 
Promise  me  to  think  this  matter  over  carefully 
and  decide  if  you  can  ever  again,  under  any 
circumstances,  afford  to  sacrifice  duty  to  pleas- 
ure.    If  you   have  been  wrong,  will  you  come 
and  acknowledge  it  ?     In  any  case,  will  you  tell 
me  what  decision  you  reach  ? " 

"I  will,"  replied  the  little  girl  in  a  tone 
almost  as  grave  as  her  father's.  She  took  the 
billet  and  walked  to  the  door,  then  hesitated, 
came  back  to  his  side,  stooped,  .nd  kissed  the 
"pucker"  between  his  eyes. 

"  You  are  just  as  good  as  gooder,  papa,"  she 
said  almost  penitently,  and  very  seriously,  "  but 
you're  not  a  bit  logical.  God  meant  you  for  a 
minister  and  nothing  else." 

Then  Herbert  Gardenell  threw  himself  back 
in  his  chair  and  laughed  heartily,  and  his  daugh- 
ter r:.n  away  apparently  satisfied  since  she  had 


ONE    CHOICE   GIRLIE, 


13 


jn. 

he  replied 
w,  daughter, 
uch  for  me? 
/er  carefully 
,  under  any 
ity  to  pleas- 
1  you  come 
will  you  tell 

in  a  tone 
le  took  the 
I  hesitated, 

kissed  the 

papa,"  she 
jusly,  "but 
t  you  for  a 

nself  back 
his  daugh- 
e  she  had 


banished  from  his  face,  for  the  time,  the  "  Look 
of  Fate,"  as  she  called  that  grave,  keen,  search- 
ing glance  that  always  brought  her  to  reflection 
and  obedience. 

But   papa's  laugh  was  followed  by  a  fervent 
prayer.     This  precious  little  daughter,  his  only 
girlie,  was  a  source  of  almost  unmixed  joy  to 
her  father.     Keen,  quick,  full  of  life  and  fun, 
alive   to  everything  about   her,   strong   in   her 
likes   and   dislikes,  affectionate  yet  willful  and 
out-spoken,   he   saw   in   her  the   making   of  a 
grand  woman,  and  in  his  soul  he  had  no  doubt 
she  would  be  such.     Her  little  spurts  of  temper, 
liability  to  "scrapes,"  to  quote  her  brother,  did 
not  trouble  him  as  they  might  some  less  hope- 
ful  man.     His  children  were  the  Lord's,  dedi- 
cated  to  him  from  their  birth,  accepted  of  him 
in  the  promise  he  believed,  and  an  assurance 
akin  to  knowledge  kept  his  heart  continually. 

Some  day  he  would  know  them  servants  of 
his  King ;  to-day  he  knew  them  as  children  full 
of  foibles   and   faults,  to  be  loved,  hoped   for, 


J5 


— I  -,./»-.■ -*_Jtt* 


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14 


ONE   CHOICE    GIRLIE. 


enjoyed.     He  believed  God  :  that  his  asking  had 
been  heard,  his  prayers  registered ;  some  day  he 
would  see  his  children  engaged  actively  in  his 
Master's  service.     For  that  day  he  labored  and 
waited;   not  fearfully   or  tearfully,   but   gladly 
-nd  with   abundant   expectation ;   not  idly,  but 
with  constant  turning  of   the  soil  and  diligent 
seed  dropping.      Meanwhile    he   enjoyed    every 
bit  of  them  and  their  sports,  and  kept  himself 
young  and   them   happy  by  sharing  their  joys 
and  sorrows. 

He  had   five   children;    two   pairs   of    boys, 
with  this  blue-eyed  girl  between   them.     Her- 
bert, the  eldest,  fifteen  when  our  story  opens, 
was  papa's  self  over  again,  so  mamma  averred. 
He  had   papa's  blue   eyes,   light   brown    hair, 
thoughtful,  not  handsome  face,  and   fine  form 
and  voice.     As  true  and  noble  in  character  as 
in  appearance,  he  was  a  joy  to  his  parents,  the 
delight  of  his  one  sister,  and  the  pride  of  his 
three  brothers,  who  quoted  him  on  all  occasions. 
This  was  even  true  of  Raymond,  the  second  born 


1 


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asking  had 
ome  day  he 
vely  in  his 
labored  and 
but  gladly 
t  idly,  but 
id  diligent 
yed  every 
pt  himself 
their  joys 

of    boys, 
^m.     Her- 
)ry  opens, 
1  averred. 
)wn    hair, 
fine  form 
iracter  as 
rents,  the 
ie  of  his 
)ccasions. 
ond  born 


ONE   CHOICE   GIRLIE. 

and  thirteen  years  of  age,  the  mischief-maker 
and  tease  as  well  as  beauty  of  the  family.  A 
perfect  brunette,  he  was  everywhere  recognized 
by  his  resemblance  to  his  mother,  with  the 
brightest  and  bL.Kest  of  dancing  eyes  and  the 
tightest  of  dark  brown  curls,  the  merriest  laugh 
and  quickest  step  of  any  boy  in  the  school- 
yard. 

Oi  tne  two  younger  boys  Harry  was,  to  quote 
Mary  Ann    McAloon,   the    nursery   maid,   the 
"dead  image  of  Masther  Harbert.     Indade  the 
two  H's  are  as  like  as  two  paes  in  a  pod,  and 
no  thrubble  to  spake  ov,  and  Masther  Eddie"  — 
Mary  Ann  always  stopped   here  to  shake  her 
head,  for  she  firmly  believed  that  the  blue-eyed, 
golden-haired  darling  who  came  last  to  the  nur- 
sery had   not  come  to  stay.     He  had  stayed 
three  years,  however. 

Olive,  poor  Olive,  was  the  odd  one  in  this 
flock.  Like  neither  father  nor  mother,  but  a 
"combination,". as  Ray  slyly  suggested.  For 
while  inheriting  mamma's  brown  curls,  slight. 


ilT 


K--.^*'  iMiMMMM 


i6 


ONE   CHOICE   GIRLIE. 


graceful  form  and  sweet  voice,  she  had  papa's 
blue  eyes  —  "enlarged  edition,"  again  to  quote 
Raymond  —  broad  white  forehead  and  firm 
mouth  and  chin.  She  was  just  nine  years  old 
when  our  story  opens,  and  young  of  her  age; 
young  and  yet  old  in  a  fashion  some  children 
have :  the  fairest,  dearest  children  Old  Earth 
knows. 

"  What  a  child  she  is,"  Mr.  Gardenell  said  to 
his  wife  that  morning  after  Olive  started  for 
school,  repeating  the  conversation  that  had 
taken  place. 

Yensie  sighed  and  smiled.  "  Herbert,  what 
shall  we  do  with  her.'  I  think  she  ought  not  to 
have  received  that  billet,  I  fear  you  were  not 
wise." 

"Perhaps  not,  seeing  I  am  neither  Solomon 
nor  his  brother,"  returned  her  husband  with  his 
sunny  smile.  "  But  if  I  mistake  not,  wifie,  she 
has  received  her  medicine  and  will  find  her 
cure." 

Medicine    indeed !     Her   school   companions 


I 

<( 

n 
k 

st 
H 


arr 
her 
He 
and 


had  papa's 
in  to  quote 
and  firm 
le  years  old 
of  her  age; 
me  children 

Old  Earth 

nell  said  to 

started   for 

1    that    had 

;rbert,  what 
lught  not  to 
ou  were  not 

ler  Solomon 
ind  with  his 
jt,  wifie,  she 
ill   find   her 

companions 


ONE   CHOICE    GIRLIE. 

It;-   "'  --"'  -"'y  '-  -  .he.  p,a, 

"Wha,  ails  y„„,  Olive  GardenellMhere's  no 

""'"r'°*''""'"'=^  ""'-'"  Wend  as 
they  „alkcd  homeward  together 

h"Shmg  a.   the    pn«,ed    face  of    her  friend 

Oh     yo„„eed„,,o„ka.„e.     It  was  insMe 
medicine.      Mv    mm    ic    • 
know."  '   "      "  ^''='    "^  P»P».  y- 

A  little  later  there  was  another  knock  at  the 
^-dydoor.  Papa  smiled  as  he  said  ..Co„e  I  ■ 
He  knew  who  stood  without. 

■■Papa  .■■head  bent  as  she  advanced 

-Ves,  little  daughter,"  drawing  her  to  his 

^er  head  on  her  father's  shoulder  and  sohhed 

a":i::t::er'^'— --- 


I  i 


I  i! 


\ 


]     ', 


1 1 


i8 


ONE   CHOICE   GIRLIE. 


"  Papa,"  at  length. 
"My  girlie,  I  am  waiting." 
"I'm   naughty,  and   I'm   selfish,  and  — I'm 
sorry,  but  — I  — don't  — like  — to  — be  — sorry, 
and  I  hate  to  'fess,  and  I  guess  I'm  wicked." 
A  half-sigh  was  the  only  answer. 
"But,  papa,  I  will   say  it  — I  will!     It  was 
wrong— it  was,  it  was,  it  was  — there!   and  I 
'most  thought  it  was  all  the  time,  only  I  wouldn't 
quite  think  so,  and  made  b'licve  I  was  logical." 
"  Have  you  confessed  to  the  other  Father  ? " 
"  No,  papa,  I  couldn't.     He  saw  inside  all  the 
time,  and  I  don't  feel  'quainted  with  him." 

"  Let  me  introduce  you,  then.     Kneel  by  me, 

darling."     There  was  a  fervent,  simple  prayer. 

She  clung  to  him  as  they  rose,  and  sat  down 

on  his  knee. 

"I  can't  be  good;  it's  my  — my  fate  to  be 
naughty.  You  and  mamma  ought  to  be  'shamed 
of  me.  But  I  will  not  let  pleasure  have  the 
time  of  something  else  again,  papa  —  I  won't, 
truly ;  it  is  so  mis-er-ya-ble.     I've  had  a  mis-er- 


and  —  I'm 
be  —  sorry, 
vicked." 

11  !  It  was 
lerc !  and  I 
y  I  wouldn't 
IS  logical." 
■Father?" 
[iside  all  the 
him." 

Lneel  by  me, 
■nple  prayer, 
nd  sat  down 

y  fate  to  be 
o  be  'shamed 
re  have  the 
m  — I  won't, 
had  a  rais-er- 


ONE   CHOICE   GIRLIE. 

ya-ble  day.     O   mm  i  »,. 

of  a  hn       u  ^  '  ^°"  *h^  ^'"lest  bit 

of  a  hope  that  I'll  ever  be  good?" 


.:-fci 


■U:i^=^:r.M*:t-' 


!  i 


CHAPTER  II. 


i    13 


A   MINISTERS   DAUGHTER,   TOO. 


Ul 


'1:1 


Take  things  as  they  come ; 
Each  hour  will  draw  out  some  surorise. 

I.Ir'JEDITH. 

THAT'S  right ;  give  it  to  him  hard,  Steve. 
Mean  fellow !  just  pay  him  up  well. 
Don't  let  him  get  off.  My  brother  Ray  will  be 
here  soon  and  he'll  help  you.  Oh !  if  I  wasn't 
a  girl." 

The  big  flashing  blue  eyes  and  energetic 
shake  of  the  head  under  the  brown  hood  told 
what  might  have  been  —  if.  And  the  small 
chap,  some  years  the  junior  of  his  antagonist, 
cheered  on  by  her  voice,  gave  his  well-dressed 
opponent  a  vigorous  rap  on  the  nose. 

"  O,  ho  !  he's  a  coward  too,  is  he  } "  cried  the 
excited   little   girl.     "Would   you   like   to    run 

20 


f 
P 

ei 


'3*  I 


oo. 


se. 

wI^'EDITH. 


hard,  Steve. 

m   up   well. 

Ray  will  be 

if  I  wasn't 

d  energetic 
n  hood  told 
I  the  small 
antagonist, 
well-dressed 

'"  cried  the 
like   to    run 


A  minister's  daughter,  too.  21 

away,  Warren  Howard.^  Well,  you  can't ;  I'„, 
I^ere."  and  two  very  determined  little  arms,  done 
up  in  .  handsome  brown  cloak,  were  resolutely 
flung  about  the  body  of  the  flying  hero,  stopping 
him  ignominiously.  "  Here  he  is,  Steve  ;  come 
finish  him.  I  want  him  well  whipped  for  once- 
perhaps  you  can  get  the  mean  out  of  him  " 

Steve  came  up  at  the  call,  and  the  little  lady 
one  hand  disengaged,  applied  her  dainty  hand-' 
kerchief  to  the  offender's  nose,  merciful  even 
m  battle. 

"Loss  of  blood  weakens,"  she  explained  to 
her  ally;  "we  only  want  to  punish  him.     Aren't 
you  ashamed,  Warren  Howard,  to  strike  a  boy 
smaller  than  yourself,  just  'cause  he's  poor  and 
his  mother  washes  clothes  for  a  living  > " 

"Better  be  ashamed  yourself,  Olive  Gardenell 
fighting  in  the  street  like  a  tomboy,  and  your 
father  a  minister,  too,"  answered  her  wriggling 
prisoner.  ^ 

"Of  course  he's  a  min'ster,  and  b'lieves  in 
equal  rights,  and  so  do  I,  and  we'll  have  them. 


lih 


il  ■  1 


'^  J 


22 


A   minister's   DAIGHTER,   TOO. 


too.     Oh  !  there  is  Ray.  —  Ray,  Ray,"  cried  the 
child  in  evident  relief  at  sight  of  her  brother. 

"Olive!"  The  little  girl  started  and  turned 
to  meet  the  grave,  troubled,  yet  curiously 
amused  glance  of  a  gentleman  who  stood  on  the 
sidewalk  near. 

"  O,  papa !  you're  just  in  time ;  if  you  only 
would  help  Steve  whip  this  cowardly  boy  who 
has  been  bullying  and  calling  him  names." 

But  the  relaxed  hold  of  both  his  antagonists 
at  once  had  released  the  culprit,  who  bounded 
away  at  sight  of  the  new  presence. 

Herbert  Gardenell  straightened  the  hood  over 
his  daughter's  curls,  re-arranged  her  cloak  and 
scarf  and  took  one  hand  firmly  in  his  before  he 
said  one  word. 

"Stevie,"  smiling  kindly,  "words  never  hurt 
manly  boys  if  they  are  undeserved.  You've  got 
courage  enough  to  meet  harder  things  than 
have  come  to-day,  if  you  ask  help  from  the  dear 
Helper.  Ybu  know  what  was  written  of  him, 
our  Jesus?    'When  he  was  reviled,  he  reviled 


1 
r 

V 

g 

d 
rr 
R 
lo 

M 
th( 

de< 


I 


•  cried  the 
brother, 
.nd  turned 

curiously 
ood  on  the 

F  you  only 
y  boy  who 
nes." 

antagonists 
10  bounded 

t  hood  over 

•  cloak  and 
i  before  he 

never  hurt 
You've  got 
hings  than 
)m  the  dear 
Len  of  him, 
,  he  reviled 


A  minister's  daughter,  too.  23 

not  again.'    He  left  us  an  example  that  we 
should  follow  his   steps.     Don't   let   this   little 
daughter  of   mine  lead  you   to  forget  "     He 
pressed  the  boy's  hand  and  smiled  again   into 
the   flushed,  shamed   face,    then   turned   home- 
ward.    Ray,  who  had  taken  the  situation  in  at 
a  glance,  sped   home   another  road,  and  Olive 
walked  alone  with  her  papa.     The  clasp  on  her 
hand  was  very  firm ;  as  if  there  was  danger  she 
might  slip  away;   his  face  was  grave,  but   not 
vexed,  and  every  few  moments  he  realized  the 
glance  his  little  daughter  gave  him. 

"I  declare,  it's  a  pity  Mr.  Gardenell's  only 
daughter  should  be  such  a  hoyden,  and  her 
mother  such  a  lady,  too,"  sighed  the  elder  Miss 
Ralison,  glancing  from  her  window,  which  over- 
looked  the  affray, 

"  What  has  the  child  been  doing  now } "  queried 
Miss  Jennie,  the  mild-faced,  fair-haired  sister  of 
the  speaker,  who  had  just  entered  the  room. 

"Been  fighting  right  in  the  str^.t  here  I 
declare,  it  is  disgraceful,  and  her  father  a  minis- 


^1 


I  ■ 


,  i- ': 


I 


I 


Ij 


24 


A    MINISTER  S    DAUGHTER,   TOO. 


ter,  too.  I'm  glad  it  was  back  here  close  to  the 
schoolhouse,  where  most  folks  wouldn't  see  it 
and  make  remarks.  Mr.  Gardenell  just  came 
along  in  time,  or  dear  knows  what  it  would  have 
grown  to.  She  actually  had  that  Howard  boy 
in  her  arms,  and  he  couldn't  get  away  either, 
and  there  she  held  him  for  Stevie  Mellen  to 
pound." 

"  Like  as  not  the  dear  child  was  only  taking 
the  part  of  the  small  dog  in  the  fight,  Johanna. 
That's  human  nature,  you  know,  and  I've  noticed 
that  Warren  Howard  puts  upon  that  poor  little 
Steve  all  the  time.  I'd  like  to  whip  him  myself 
sometimes." 

"You!  Jennie  Ralison  !  "  with  a  significant 
sniff.  "  Well,  dear  child  or  not,  I  pity  her  pa- 
rents.    Poor  Mr.  Gardenell !  " 

Poor  Mr.  Gardenell  meanwhile  was  puzzling 
himself  as  to  how  he  should  properly  deal  with 
his  child.  Miss  Johanna  would  have  taken  her 
to  the  study,  lectured,  whipped  her,  and  set  her 
to  learning  the  catechism,  no  doubt.     He  knew 


ir 


0. 

lose  to  the 
n't  see  it 
just  came 
rou\d  have 
oward  boy 
iray  either, 
Mellen  to 

inly  taking 
:,  Johanna, 
've  noticed 
poor  little 
lim  myself 

significant 
ity  her  pa- 

s  puzzling 
{  deal  with 

taken  her 
tid  set  her 

He  knew 


A  minister's  daughter,  too. 


25 


I 


quite  well,  as  Miss  Jennie  had  conjectured,  that 
all  this  mischief  had  arisen  from  the  warm  heart 
of  his  impulsive  daughter.     Every  time  he  re- 
called  her  flying  hair,  excited  face  and  words  as 
he  turned  the  corner  and  beheld   her,  Warren 
Howard  in  her  arms,  stanching  his  blood  with 
one  hand,  while  with  the  other  she  held  him  for 
the  descending  blows,  he  found  himself  longing 
to  yield  to  the  ludicrousness  of  the  scene  and 
laugh  heartily.     So  as  he  perceived  the  contin- 
ued shy  glances  into  his  face  he  gave  the  little 
palm  in  his  a  reassuring  pressure. 

"  You  are  not  angry  with  me,  are  you,  papa.;»" 
came  as  the  result  of  this  kindness. 

"No,  darling;  I  am  only  puzzled  and  grieved. 
I  am  wondering  must  I  get  you  a  straight-jacket 
or  a  suit  of  boy's  clothes -confine  you   alto- 
gether, or  give  up  my  hope  of  a  dear  little  woman 
and  settle  down  to  five  boys." 
"  O,  papa  ! "  such  a  doleful  little  voice. 
"You  see  mamma  is  so  beautiful,  so  satisfy- 
ing," continued  the  gentleman,  unheeding  her 


Fr= 


V 


;  i 


26 


A  minister's  daughter,  too. 


sigh,  "I've  been  expecting  such  an  unspeakable 
comfort  in  having  her  counterpart.  Two  such 
in  one  house  is  too  much  good ;  I  ought  to  have 
known  better." 
Again  that  doleful  little  "  O,  papa  !  " 
"  Still  I'm  not  easily  turned  from  a  purpose  or 
a  desire,"  pursued  Mr.  Gardenell ;  "  I  shall  fight 
hard  and  pray  harder  for  my  little  woman  before 
I  give  her  up." 

"O,  papa ! "  but  it  was  with  a  sob  now,  and  it 
was  well  they  had  reached  their  own  door  and 
papa  could  take  the  little  limp  bundle  into  his 
strong  arms  and  carry  it  safely  to  his  study  out 
of  the  sight  of  any  one  but  himself. 

"I  al-ways  — for-get,"  sobbed  the  child,  as  he 
gently  loosened  her  wraps  and  laid  her  on  the 
low  couch.  "  I'm  born  wrong ;  I  was  meant  for 
a  boy,  I  most  know.     I'm  nothing  but  — but  — 

a  dis-comfort-able  — un-sat-is-faction,  and  you'd 
better  be  rid  of  me." 

Then  papa  broke  out  long  and  loud  into  the 
laugh  so  far  restrained,  and  caught  the  bundle 


I 
t 

d 

e 

n 
fi 

St 

gj 


A  minister's  daughter,  too. 


V 


nspeakable 
Two  such 
ht  to  have 


purpose  or 
shall  fight 
»an  before 

3w,  and  it 

door  and 

i  into  his 

study  out 

lild,  as  he 
!r  on  the 
neant  for 
—  but  — 
nd  you'd 

into  the 
e  bundle 


up  in  his  arms,  declaring  he  wouldn't  know  how 
to  get  along  without  his  "discomfortable  unsat- 
isfaction,"  and  hadn't  the  least  idea  who  would 
rid  him  of  her  if  he  did. 

But  after  awhile,  after  the  little  heart  had 
stopped  grieving  so  sorely,  they  had  a  long  talk 
together,  when  her  motive  received  all  the  praise 
its  due,  and  her  manner  of  helping  her  little 
mate  had  all  its  unbeauty  and  inexpediency 
exposed 

"I  will  try  hard  to  do  better."  she  said  hum- 
bly, "but  please,  papa,  don't  'spect  anything,  for 
then  you  won't  be  disappointed  ;  and  I  hate  to 
disappoint  people,  and  feel  most  sure  I  will." 

But  papa  refused  point-blank  to  be  a  non- 
expectant,  declaring  he  was  the  most  expectant 
man  in  New  York,  and  his  expectations  were 
fixed  on  his  daughter. 

Meanwhile  Ray  had  given  his  version  of  the 
story  in  the  lunch-room  below,  and  mamma  was 
quite  prepared  for  the  crest-fallen  looking  little 
girl  who  presently  appeared  with  papa. 


r 


28 


A  minister's  daughter,  too. 


"  Really,  Joan  of  Arc,  you  don't  look  quite  as 
heroic  as  you  did  a  half-hour  ago,"  cried  Ray. 

"Stop  your  noise,  Ray  Gardenell.  You're 
just  like  a  hateful  boy.  If  it  wasn't  for  boys  I 
could  be  good,"  she  added  pathetically,  looking 
at  her  father,  conscious  she  had  lost  her  temper 
and  broken  her  pretty  resolves. 

"If  there  were  no  boys  what  would  you  do 
for  father  to  bind  up  your  wounds,  I  wonder," 
coitinued  Sir  Tease. 

"And  before  you  are  hard  on  girls  suppose 
you  consider  the  boy  who  doesn't  know  how 
to  get  on  without  a  mother,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Gardenell,  smiling,  and  completely  vanquishing 
this  hoy,  who  fairly  worshiped  "little-mother- 
woman,"  as  he  called  her,  and  who  was  never 
five  minutes  in  the  house  without  needing  her 
special  attention. 

"Mamma,"  said  Olive  penitently,  "I  don't 
think  I  ought  to  havp  any  of  this  nice  dessert, 
though  papa  does  nave  a  hope  for  me,"  she 
added  with  a  long  sigh. 


t 

s 

d 

n 
(( 

iti 

e> 

an 

I 

W 

pe 

sh( 

bo; 

she 

spL 


oo. 

3ok  quite  as 
'ied  Ray. 
;11.  You're 
t  for  boys  I 
lly,  looking 
her  temper 

uld  you  do 
I  wonder," 

Is  suppose 
know  how 
ipted  Mrs. 
inquishing 
tie-mother- 
was  never 
:eding  her 

"I   don't 

e  dessert, 

me,"  she 


A  minister's  daughter,  too. 


29 


"And  mamma  has  another,  which  makes  two 
hopes."  said  Mrs.  Gardenell,  smiling  on  her 
doleful  little  daughter. 

"And  Hervie  has  the  biggest  hope  of  all," 
chimed  in  Herbert,  crossing  the  room  to  smooth 
the  brown  curls  while  he  kissed  her  brow.  "I 
should  think  you'd  have  lots  of  hope  for  your- 
self, and  be  very  happy  and  "  — 

"Eat  all  the  dessert  you  please,  while  we  all 
devoutly  pray  that  your  penitent   and   humble 
mood   may  never  end,"  slyly  interjected    Ray. 
"There,   mamma,  I  couldn't    help  it;    it  said 
itself."  as  he  caught  his  mother's  reproachful 
eyes.     "  It  is  so  uncommon  to  see  Miss  High- 
and-Mighty  down  I  must  exult  a  little;  though 
I  should  have  liked  the  fun  of  dressing  down 
Warren  Howard   myself,  if  father  hadn't   hap- 
pened along.     Fact  is.  I  don't  see  why  a  girl 
shouldn't  whip  a  miserable  sneak  as  well  as  a 
boy.  if  she's  able.     I'll  say  this  much  for  01, 
she's  clear  grit  and  no  mistake;  she'd  make  a 
splendid  boy.     O,  mamma !  if  you  could  have 


;^'-' 


X. 


n 


I   •firirfiiiiMTiii- 


'i 


I 


^^ 


30 


A  minister's  daughter,  too. 


been  there ;  such  a  sight ! "  And  Ray  burst 
into  a  laugh  at  the  remembrance.  "  I  beg  your 
pardon,  papa,"  as  he  caught  that  gentleman's 
grave  eyes,  "but  you  know  you  wanted  to  laugh 
yourself.  There,  I'd  better  go  or  I  will  be  in 
disgrace  again." 

And  Ray  kissed  his  mother  and  took  a  gentle 
pinch  of  Olive's  rosy  cheek  as  he  left  the  room. 


t 

I 
t 

tl 
b 
w 
w 

h( 


■'^ftiSfii 


TOO. 


d  Ray  burst 
"I  beg  your 

gentleman's 
ntcd  to  laugh 

I  will  be  in 

:ook  a  gentle 
it  the  room. 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN   DISGRACE   AGAIN. 

O,  how  full  of  briers  is  this  working-day  world  I 

As  You  Like  It. 

TN  disgrace  again."  Ray  might  well  say.  for 
•!•  either  he  or  Olive  were  continually  in  this 
condition.  When  she  was  better  than  usual  he 
always  met  disaster,  and  vice  versa.  As  Mary 
Ann  McAloon  once  said,  with  raised  hands  and 
eyes.  "What  Masther  Raymond  don't  think  on 
Miss  Olive  is  shure  to  inwent.  and  from  what 
they  don't  contrive  the  good  Lord  deliver  us." 

They  had  been  the  delight  and  torment  of 
this  long-suffering  maid  for  many  a  year,  and 
between  scolding  and  petting  them  her  time 
was  pretty  equally  divided.  "Masther  Harbert 
was  never  to  say  a  thrubble  though  he  was 
heady."  she  partially  averred,  "and  the  babbies." 

31 


■"^^^^^ 


-jr 


32 


IN    DISGRACE   AGAIN, 


i    I 


m; 


M 


fi 


r  : 


meaning  Harry  and  Eddie,  "were  just  angels 
shure ;  but  two  sich  as  Masther  Raymond  and 
Miss  Olive  were  nivcr  born  to  wan  roof  before, 
and  their  father  a  minister,  too."  Therein  lay 
the  chief  horror  to  more  than  Mary  Ann.  Had 
they  been  born  to  common  mortals  their  short- 
comings might  be  overlooked  or  forgiven,  but 

minister's  children  to  show  such  depravity 

terrible  I 

To-day  Mary  Ann  had  a  headache,  and  the 
nursery  was  left  to  Mrs.  Gardenell,  who  in  turn 
had  so  many  callers  that  Olive  was  pressed  into 
service.  She  sat  sewing  a  seam,  while  "the 
angels  shure,"  amused  the.  .  Ives.  Several 
times  mammj  looked  in  to  find  all  serene  and  to 
praise  her  little  daughter,  who  began  to  feel 
quite  angelic  herself.  A  number  of  unanswered 
letters  lay  waiting  for  mamma's  pen ;  what  better 
time  could  she  have.'  A  kiss  apiece  to  the 
inmates  of  the  nursery,  and  soon  she  was  en- 
grossed, forgetful  of  all  but  her  correspondents. 

Suddenly  she  was  roused  to  peculiar  sounds 


I 
b 
f, 
d 

IV 
ir 

th 

"( 

ex 

frc 

sis 

thi 

the 

I 

of  1 

cow 

whi; 

'bus 

self 

you. 

and 


iad 


IN    DISGKACE   AGAIN. 


33 


iust  angels 
ymond  and 
oof  before, 
rhercin  lay 
\nn.  Had 
their  short- 
rgivcn,  but 
epravity  — 

e,  and  the 
k^ho  in  turn 
'cssed  into 
ivhile  "the 
Several 
ene  and  to 
an  to  feel 
nanswered 
vhat  better 
:ce  to  the 
le  was  en- 
spondents. 
iar  sounds 


■ssuing  from  the  nursery.  She  listened  :  com- 
bat  thick  and  fast  must  be  going  on  ;  never  be- 
fore had  she  heard  such  sounds  issue  from  that 
'"••■ection  !  Just  then  a  caller  was  announced  _ 
Mrs.  Ivers;  one  of  their  wealthiest,  most  exact- 
ing parishioners  ;  a  late-comer  to  the  ch-irch 

The  poor  tired  mother  stopped  a  moment  at 
the  nursery  door  before  descending  to  her  .uest 
"Olive,  my  darling,  what  does  this  mean.^°  she 
exclaimed  as  two  angry  little  heated  faces  con 
fronted  her.     "Harry.  Eddie,  stop,  my  boys;  let 
sister  talk  to  you  till  mother  returns  to  settle 
th.s   matter.     Olive,  keep  them  still,  my  dear- 
there  is  company  awaiting  me  below." 

But  Olive  felt  quite  equal  to  the  settlement 
of  this  quarrel.     "  Harry,  you  are  selfish  and  a 
coward."  she  said  warmly,  "and  if  Eddie  don't 
whip  you  I  will.     Papa  wouldn't   allow  you  to 
'buse  Eddie  as  you  do.     Now  look  out  for  your- 
self while  Eddie  shows  you  how  he  can  manage 
you.     Thrash  him.  Eddie,  that's  a  sweet  angel 
and  sister  will  buy  you  that  pretty  little  horse 


~^mB 


^^^^a^^ 


'^v^?- 


34 


IN    DISGRACE    AGAIN. 


we  saw  down  street.  Wait  till  I  count  three ; 
one,  two,  three.  Quick,  Eddie,  quick !  I  know 
you  can  whip  him." 

Unhappy  mamma !  She  heard  the  noise  in 
spite  of  closed  doors,  wondered,  prayed,  grew 
uneasy,  and  poorly  entertained  her  visitor,  who 
criticised  her  afterwards  as  a  very  nervous 
woman,  not  at  all  what  she  should  expect  in 
Mr.  Gardenell's  wife,  and  she  feared  she  did 
not  have  good  government  over  her  children 
either,  for  very  suspicious  sounds  reached  her 
ears  from  above. 

Meanwhile  Olive  had  dropped  her  work,  for- 
gotten mamma's  caution,  and  given  herself  freely 
to  the  excitement  of  the  battle.  Eddie,  pushed 
on  and  praised,  was  victor.  Harry,  discomforted 
and  vanquished,  rubbed  his  eyes  with  his  little 
handkerchief  and  cried,  while  his  sister  ex- 
pressed her  contempt  of  him  in  various  ways, 
winding  up  at  last  at  the  top  of  her  voice, 
through  her  nose,  in  doleful  tone,  an  exact  imi- 
tation of  old  Brother  Andrews,  who  occasionally 


E 
I 

roi 
be 
an( 

cur 
kne 


«U«ilv 


"Wfl' 


count  three ; 
[uick !  I  know 

the  noise  in 
prayed,  grew 
ir  visitor,  who 
very  nervous 
lid  expect  in 
ared  she  did 
her  children 
1  reached   her 

her  work,  for- 
herself  freely 
Eddie,  pushed 
discomforted 
^•ith  his  little 
his  sister  ex- 
various  ways, 
of  her  voice, 
an  exact  imi- 
0  occasionally 


IN   DISGRACE   AGAIN. 

Hark  from  the  tomb  a  doleful  sound  •■         . 

Jm,T  ""^ '"" "'"''' '"' "-— -^ 

.rouHed  face  and  sorr„„fu,  e,es  took  1„  .,, 

"Daughter,  ho.  often  must  I  remind  you  that 
you  are  no,  to  trifle  with  sacred  things." 

■■Why,  mamma,  how  can  that  be  sacred  M. 

P-  on  h.s  Look  Of  Kate  when  Mr.  AndreJs 

"Olive!" 

•■Mamma,  Harry  has  been  selsh  and  •busing 
Edd,e,  and  needed  punishing,  or  fd  pity  him 
I  "as  only  helping  him  groan," 

'•  Olive,  pu,  up  your  work  and  go  to  the  other 
0".andthinkahalf.hour;Iwi,lseeyou„o„e 

arbe;::"'-"  -'  ^'-'^ «-  --  - 

Then  two  little  faces  were  washed,  tumbled 

-^  were  smoothed,  and  one  little  boy  on  either 
knee,  mamma  unravelled  the  mystery 


iJ 


if 


"~"^TfB 


I 

I 


Vi 


36 


IN    DISGR/iCE   AGAIN, 


"  My  poor  little  Harry  has  been  selfish  and 
overbearing,"  she  said  sadly,  and  the  little  boy's 
lip  quivered,  for  he  loved  his  mother  too  well  to 
grieve  her.  "  It  is  better  to  yield  our  rights, 
Eddie,  than  to  grieve  Jesus  by  fighting ;  let  us 
tell  him  about  it." 

That  was  the  cure-all;  both  little  boys  felt 
better  when,  shortly  after,  some  one  knocked  at 
the  door.  It  was  Rosy  McAloon  looking  for 
her  daughter  Mary  Ann. 

"  Sick,  is  it,  poor  girrl  ?  sorry  I  am  for  her, 
for  mesilf  is  narely  so,  what  wid  the  rheumatiz 
and  the  b'y.  There's  the  b'y  drhunk  agen,  and 
that  afther  signing  the  pledge  for  the  Cardi- 
nal. It's  the  Cardinal  I'm  afther  this  moment, 
mum." 

Mrs.  Gardenell  smiled.  After  all  these  years 
Rosy  still  persisted  in  using  her  first  title  for 
Mr.  Gardenell.  It  was  ten  years  now  since 
Rosy's  husband  had  died,  and  she  had  followed 
May'ran  to  America. 

"Mr.  Gardenell   is   out   just   now,"  said  the 


y 

w 

si 

St 

of 
an 
"] 
"h 
(R< 
frif 
thii 
bon 

she 
thai 


selfish  and 
;  little  boy's 
■  too  well  to 

our  rights, 
ting ;   let  us 

le  boys  felt 

;  knocked  at 

looking  for 

am  for  her, 
le  rheumatiz 
ik  agen,  and 
r  the  Cardi- 
his  moment, 

i  these  years 
irst  title  for 
3  now  since 
had  followed 

w,"  said  the 


IN    DISGRACE    AGAIN. 

lady  kindly  ;  "but  if  you  will  take  off  your  bon- 
net and  stay  to  tea,  you  can  see  him  and  your 
daughter,  too.  I  think  she  will  be  better  after 
her  nap." 

"Indadenisthay;  you  look  ready  to  dhrop 
yourself;  go  take  a  bit  ov  rest,  and  I'll  sthay 
wul  the  childer.  Shall  I  tell  yez  a  sthory  now 
shure;  shall  it  be  the  little  rid  hin  .?  " 

"  Yes,  yes."  shouted  the  boys,  climbing  her 
stout  knees. 

Yensie  smiled  and  sighed.  She  was  thinking 
of  the  first  time  she  heard  that  story  told  to 
another  pair.  The  woman  read  her  thought. 
"  Indade,"  she  said,  looking  into  Eddie's  eyes 
"how  like  the  child  is  to  Violet,  me  lady  " 
(Rosy  would  never  get  over  addressing  her  olden 
fnend  thus.)     "  Yer  mind  how  iver  the  two  ov 

thim  liked  the  little  rid  bin  .^*   Ah,  but  they  were 
bonny,  bonny  childer  !  " 

Yensie's  eyes  filled.     "  They  are  safe.  Rosy  " 

she  said.     "What  could  we  askfor  them  more 
than  they  have  ?  " 


.--,-U 


-H, 


i 


!  5 


I ; 


I  r 


ifi 


P 


IN    DISGRACE    AGAIN. 


"  To  be  sure,  dear  heart,"  responded  the  Irish 
woman  tenderly,  and  Yensie  went  out  of  one 
door  just  as  her  naughty  daughter  crept  in  the 
other.  "  My  time  is  up,"  she  said,  as  if  expect- 
ing contradiction.  "  It  is  such  a  long  time  to 
think,  and  I  hate  thinking.  O,  Rosy  !  if  you 
will  tell  us  a  story  I  will  be  good,  gooder,  and 
sew  up  my  seam."  And  vith  three  bright  faces 
upturned  to  hers  Rosy  began,  "  There  was  wanst 
a  little  rid  hin." 

The  talk  with  mamma  Olive  did  not  dread. 
It  was  customary  at  twilight  for  all  the  children 
to  spend  at  least  one  half-hour  in  her  room. 
Ray  called  it  "  cream  time,"  because  it  came  be- 
tween the  day  and  the  night,  and  was  the  sweet- 
est thing  either  inclosed.  "  Just  as  a  fellow  eats 
cream  pie  to  get  the  insides,"  he  added  by  way 
of  illustration.  There  was  always  a  little  com- 
paring of  notes,  talks  over  school,  its  fun  and 
troubles,  and  the  repeating  of  any  Bible  verse 
that  had  been  helpful  during  the  day.  Mamma 
and  Herbert  always  had  a  verse  ;  Ray  and  Olive 


I 
r 

f. 
t( 

01 

re 
m 

tU 
wc 

sel 
anc 


1 


ed  the  Irish 
out  of  one 
:rei>t  in  the 
LS  if  expect- 
ing time  to 
isy  !  if  you 
goocler,  and 
bright  faces 
e  was  wanst 

not  dread. 
;he  children 

her   room. 

it  came  be- 
s  the  sweet- 
a  fellow  eats 
Ided  by  way 
I  little  corn- 
its  fun  and 
Bible  verse 
y.  Mamma 
ly  and  Olive 


IN   DISGRACE   AGAIN.  3^ 

occasionally.     Even  Harry  and  Eddie  sometimes 
had  theirs.     Mamma  always  played  some  favo- 
nte  piece  for  them  on  the  organ,  and  they  sang 
a  hymn  or  two,  according  to  the  time  at  dis 
posal.  then  there  was  a  precious  prayer,  when 
every  child  was  mentioned  by  name. 

After  this  the  younger  ones  went  to  bed.  the 
boys    to   the    study-room.   and    to-night   Olive 
remained  with  her  mother.     She  was  all  ready 
for  confession,  and  so  full  of  resolves  to  do  bet- 
ter that   mamma's  work  was   easy.     "Try  me 
once  more,  mamma  dear.     Just  watch  me  the 
rest  of  the  week  and  see  how  good  I'll  be.     I 
mean  to  be  an  angel." 

And  then  papa  opened  the  door  with  a  lit- 
t'e  laugh  as  he  caught  his  daughter's  closing 
words.  ° 

"Comehere.  darling."  he  said,  seating  him- 
self; and  when  she  came  he  turned  her  around 
and  examined  her  shoulders  curiously. 

"  Why.  papa,  what  are  you  hunting  for  >  " 
"Wings."  he  answered  gravely,     "i  thought 


■X., 


i 


jT" 


;  1 


1 


\   Hi: 


J 


^i 


w 

\  I 


40 


IN    DISGRACE   AGAIN. 


they  might  be  sprouting."  And  then  such  a 
merry  time  as  they  had,  for  papa  had  to  make  up 
for  his  lost  feast,  for  he  quite  as  much  enjoyed 
"  cream  time  "  as  the  children  did,  and  always 
added  to  its  merriment  and  helpfulness. 


en  such  a 
;o  make  up 
:h  enjoyed 
ind  always 

iS. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

UNDER   THE   WHITE   FLAG. 

In  to-day  already  walks  to-morrow. 

ir„  .1 1  Coleridge. 

Earthly  power  doth  then  shew  likest  God's 
When  mercy  seasons  justice. 

Shakespeare. 

TS  this  a  safe  haven  for  an  evil  doer.?"  asked 

a  voice  that  tried  to  be  very  subdued  and 

decorous,  but   was   utterly  scandalized  by  the 

merry  eyes  peeping  in  at  Mr.  Gardenell's  study 

door. 

"  It  is,"  answered   papa  promptly,  lifting  his 
eyes  from  a  half-written  sheet. 

"The  most  luckless  and  disconsolate  of 
youths  may  approach  to-day  unmolested  >  "  pur- 
sued  the  investigator,  quoting  Ray  freely,  and 
stumbling  over  the  big  words. 

Papa  pushed  his  paper  back,  and  held  out  his 
ruler  for  a  wand,  while  he  pursed  up  his  lips  for 

41 


i 


ii 


UNDER   THE   WHITE    FLAG. 


a  kiss.  One  tossed  from  rosy  fingers  was  all  he 
received,  however,  as  his  daughter  proceeded  to 
open  wide  the  door  held  ajar,  and  in  a  highly 
dramatic  tone  cried,  "  Advance,  Sir  Knight,  my 
person  has  won  you  favor,  and  you  will  be 
treated  by  his  Lordship  with  all  the  fluency 
possible." 

A  laugh  on  both  sides  of  the  door  greeted  this 
speech,  and  then  the  handsome  face  and  curly 
head  of  Raymond  appeared  in  the  door  as,  with 
another  kiss  of  her  hand,  Olive  retired,  having 
first  informed  her  brother  in  a  stage  whisper 
that  if  he  needed  help  he  would  find  her  in  the 
nursery. 

The  door  closed.  Raymond  advanced  with  a 
half-comical,  half-abashed  face,  eyes  rather 
avoiding  his  father's,  though  he  said  jauntily, 
"  In  disgrace  again,  papa." 

"So  I  see,"  said  the  gentleman  kindly.  "I 
hope  it  isn't  anything  serious.  Take  a  seat,  and 
tell  me  all  about  it,"  drawing  a  chair  towards 
the  table. 


s  was  all  he 
roceeded  to 
in  a  highly 
Knight,  my 
i^ou  will  be 
the  fluency 

greeted  this 
e  and  curly 
loor  as,  with 
ired,  having 
age  whisper 
1  her  in  the 

inced  with  a 
eyes  rather 
aid   jauntily, 

kindly.  "  I 
:e  a  seat,  and 
hair  towards 


UNDER   THE    WHITE   FLAG.  43 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  I  believe  I'd  rather  stand 
where  I  can't  sec  your  eyes." 

Papa  smiled.  Years  ago  it  h..d  come  to  him 
as  a  revelation  that  any  of  his  children,  from 
youngest  to  oldest,  preferred  any  punishment  for 
wrong  doing  rather  than  meet  the  continued 
glance  of  his  sorrowful  eye^. 

"It  just  makes  my  heart  ache  down  to  my 
toes,"  Olive  had  said  once  pathetically.  "  Won't 
you  please  whip  me.  papa,  so  I  can  ache  some- 
where  else  ? " 

"  It  isn't  much  to  tell ;  it  won't  take  long  " 
continued  Ray  with  a  little  sigh.  And  papa 
said  kmdly,  sympathizing  with  his  boy  even  in 
his  naughtiness.  •'  Sit  down,  my  son  ;  I  will 
not  look  at  you  if  it  troubles  you." 

That  was  just  like  Herbert  Gardenell.  and  it 
was  just  like  Ray  to  stoop  impulsively  and  kiss 
his  father's  mouth,  then  drop  into  a  chair  and 
cover  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"It's  the  old  story,  papa."  he  said,  dashing 
'nto  it.     <■  I've  got  into  another  scrape,  and  need 


X. 


i 


44 


UNDER  THE   WHITE    FLAG. 


money.  I'd  like  a  dollar  on  my  next  month's 
allowance." 

Mr.  GardencU  looked  very,  very  grave. 

"  This  is  the  sixth  time  you  have  drawn  on 
your  next  allowance.  Do  you  think  this  a  wise 
way  to  go  on,  my  boy  ?" 

"  No,  sir,  but,"  hesitating,  "  I  don't  see  how 
I  can  help  it  this  month." 

"But  it  was  so  last  month,  and  the  month 
before.  If  it  was  only  once,  my  «ion,  I  might 
overlook  it,  but  this  continued  extravagance. 
If  I  grant  j-^u  your  request,  how  much  do  you 
think  will  be  left  of  your  next  month's  allow- 
ance to  be  paid  at  the  proper  time  .> " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir  ;  not  a  great  deal." 

"Then  you  have  kept  no  account  !  You 
would  make  a  poor  business  man,  Ray." 

"  I  knew  you'd  keep  account,  sir.  I  knew 
you  would  not  cheat  me." 

"  Were  you  ever  afraid  any  one  would  cheat 
you  ?  I  fear  your  bump  of  caution  is  not 
developed.     Ray,  if  I  pay  you  this  dollar,  you 


I 

h 
it 

St 

in 

be 
to 


toj 

pai 
< 

He 


■**^-:'%i«S 


UNDER   THE    WHITE    FLAG. 


45 


ve. 

drawn  on 
;his  a  wise 


:he  month 
n,  I  might 
ravagance. 
ch  do  you 
th's  allow- 


ant  !     You 

r," 

.     I   knew 

nuld  cheat 
)n  is  not 
dollar,  you 


will  have  just  ten  cents  left  for  next  month's 
expenses.  That  will  not  pay  your  tithe  to  the 
church." 

No,  sir." 
"  What  will  you  do  >  " 

"  I  fear  I  shall  have  to  borrow  a  little  ahead," 

answered  the  lad  slowly,  and  in  evident  distress. 

"And  so  live  continually  beyond  your  income. 

I  would  stop,  Ray  _  stop  short.     Many  a  life  has 

been  ruined  by  just  such  a  course.     You  think 

it  will   make   no   difference   now.  but   habit   is 

strong,  and  you  will  find  yourself  speedily  bound 

in  chains  of  iron." 

"  But,  sir  -  but  it  is  really  mine,  and  I  must 
be  honorable.     I'm  in  for  this  dollar  ;  I  promised 
to  pay  and  I  must." 
"  Tell  me  how  it  happened,  Ray  >  " 
"  Oh  !  "  stopping  and  flushing,  while  his  fingers 
toyed  with  his  jacket  buttons,  "to  tell  the  truth, 
papa,  I'm  awfully  ashamed  to  let  you  know." 

"  Yet  not  ashamed  to  know  yourself,  or  have 
Heaven  know,"  said  Mr.  Gardenell  sadly. 


'^*«*«S^,,,  ,; 


>«;x 


i 


M    1 


A.  I 


l\ 


-Hi 


46 


UNDKR   THE    WHITE    FLAG. 


"  I'apa,  I'm  here  under  the  white  flaii." 

"  I  know  it,  my  son.  I  am  not  going  to  preach 
to  yoii,  but  I  wish  you  would  preach  to  yourself 
occasionally,  or  listen  to  that  little  preacher 
within  when  he  takes  the  pulpit." 

"  1  listen  oftener  than  you  think,  papa." 

"Yet  don't  improve!  Hut  this  'scrape,'  as 
you  call  it,  was  "  — 

"  Was  just  a  little  fun  out  of  old  Johnson  —  I 
beg  your  pardon,"  flushing  painfully  as  he  caught 
his  father's  eye,  "old  Mr.  Johnson.  I  didn't 
really  mean  any  harm,  I  wasn't  in  for  it,  but  the 
other  fellows  were  and  I  hated  to  say  No,  and 
spoil  their  sport,  for  they  refused  to  go  without 
me." 

"  What  an  opportunity,"  began  papa,  but  Ray 
innocently  lifted  the  ruler  on  the  desk  and  ex- 
tended it.  His  father  smiled;  he  knew  it  was  a 
gentle  reminder  of  his  promised  clemency. 

"You  know  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  preach 
specially  for  me,  papa.  Then,  too,  '  my  own  little 
preacher,'  as  you  call  it,  reminded  me  of  all  that 


t 

li 
n 
b 
I 

tl 
fc 
or 

so 

I  ( 

be 

an( 

of 
lik( 


UNDER   THE    WHITE    FLAG. 


47 


g  to  preach 
to  yourself 
;   preacher 

ipa." 
scrape,'  as 

»hnson  —  I 
3  he  caught 
.  I  didn't 
it,  but  the 
Y  No,  and 
fo  without 

a,  but  Ray 
sk  and  ex- 
w  it  was  a 
:ncy. 

ou  preach 

own  little 

of  all  that 


and  Olive  gave  me  a  fearful  drubbing  -efore  I 
came  in  here.     She  offered  me  all  her  money 
afterwards  to  make  up,  but  she  hadn't  a  cent 
when  she  came  to  look;  a  little  girl  crying  in 
the  streets  yesterday  got  her  last  quarter,  so  I 
had  to  apply  to  you.     The  fact  is.  pai,a.  ^e  only 
meant  to  give  the  old  gentleman      little  scare, 
but  he  nearly  lost  his  wits.     Jonas  Cowles  and 
I  promised  to  pay  for  the  broken  glass  and  all 
that,  if  he'd  let  us  off.     He's  a  pretty  good  old 
fel- gentleman,  I  mean.     I  begged  his  pardon 
on  the  spot,  and  told  him  I'd  never  be  found  in 
so  mean  a  scrape  again,  and  I  will  not,  see  if 
I  do ! " 

"And  I  understand  you  and  Jonas  Cowles  to 
be  the  only  persons  concerned  > " 

'•  No-o,  but  -  the  others  were  kind  of  hard  up, 
and  we  —  we  " 

"  We  are  so  well  ofif  we  shouldered  the  whole 
of  it,"  finished  Mr.  Gardenell,  smiling;  it  was  so 
like  his  generous,  heedless  boy. 

"Ray,"  he  said  seriously,  "the  time  is  come 


.    , 


I 


UNDER   THE   WHITE   FLAG. 


for  a  change.  You  jeopardize  ali  your  future. 
A  new  leaf  must  be  turned  —  turned  now." 

Ray  put  out  his  hand  for  the  ruler,  but  his 
father  laid  his  own  quietly  but  firmly  over  both. 
"No,  my  son,  I  did  not  promise  not  to  reason 
with  yoli,  I  only  promised  to  be  merciful." 

"There  is  no  mercy  in  preaching  to  a  fellow 
when  he  is  miserable,"  said  the  boy,  kicking  the 
carpet. 

'  I  am  not  preaching,  my  son  ;  I  am  only  rea- 
soning with  you  as  one  business  man  might  with 
another." 

"  Papa,  I'm  afraid  I  was  never  cut  out  for  a 
business  man." 

"What  were  you  cut  out  for.'"  asked  the 
gentleman  gravely. 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  know,"  despairingly.  "  I  guess 
I  wasn't  cut  out  at  all,  I  just  happened." 

"'What  haps  God  directs.'  Is  it  possible 
one  poor  little  boy  has  come  into  this  big  world 
cut  out  for  no  particular  place,  and  no  place  cut 
out  for  him  ? "     The  voice  and  face  were  very 


il!:l 


■-^ 


14 — 


f''<\<  ,^^ 


yfour  future, 
ed  now." 
ler,  but  his 
y  over  both, 
jt  to  reason 
ciful." 
to  a  fellow 
kicking  the 

im  only  rea- 
1  might  with 

it  out  for  a 

"  asked  the 

.  "  I  guess 
ied." 
it  possible 
is  big  world 
no  place  cut 
e  were  very 


UNDER   THE   WHITE   FLAG. 


49 


grave.  Ray  easily  encouraged  was  as  easily 
depressed ;  he  was  more  wont  to  despair  of  him- 
self than  any  child  his  father  owned  ;  less  given 
to  thought  naturally,  and  less  self-appreciative. 

"I'm  not  like  you,  papa;  I  wish  I  was  — I 
do,  indeed.    I  am  easily  led.    I  hate  to  say  No." 

"  Easily  led  to  do  wrong,  n.y  son,  but  are  you 
easily  led  to  do  right  ?  If  so,  how  is  it  mamma 
and  I  have  failed  when  we  love  you  so  truly  and 
long  so  to  do  you  good  >  " 

"  I'm  born  crooked.  I  don't  believe  I'm 
responsible." 

"  Not  when  there  is  grace  ready  to  help  you 
for  the  asking  ? " 

The  boy  was  silenced  for  a  moment,  then,  — 

"  Father,  don't  you  know  it  is  harder  for  some 
people  to  be  good  than  for  others.'  Herbert 
never  gets  into  scrapes." 

"  I  know,  my  son,  that  every  one  has  his  own 
particular  foes  to  fight,  his  own  sins  to  over- 
come, but  there  is  One  who  never  fails  to 
overcome  when  He  is  called  in  to  aid.     I  had  as 


i^'/j^ 


tmm 


^ 


SO 


UNDER   THE   WHITE    FLAG. 


rn 


many  and  as  strong  foes  in  myself  as  you  have, 
my  son,  and  i.  had  defeat  until  my  Helper  was 
welcomed.  You  know,  do  you  not,  that  Her- 
bert had  hi''  foes  to  conquer  ;  do  you  remember 
when  and  how  he  got  the  victory.'" 

Indeed  he  did.  Ray's  mind  went  back  to 
other  days  when  he  had  waited,  weeping,  outside 
that  very  study  door,  while  the  strong  will  of 
his  brother  held  out  against  authority,  and  his 
father  patiently,  but  resolutely,  battled  it.  His 
Herbert,  his  big  brother,  the  idol  of  Olive  and 
himself!  How  often  in  those  days  had  mamma 
picked  up  and  carried  to  her  room  her  second 
born,  his  heart  weli-nigh  broken  over  his  brother's 
woes,  while  hers  ached  sadly.  Herbert  was 
naturally  a  seli'-willed  child,  and  it  was  in  his 
day  that  this  tribunal  before  which  Ray  now 
stO(d,  was  instituted. 

He  would  never  forget  how  often  Herbert 
stood  prisoner  behind  two  chairs  in  that  room, 
while  mamma,  with  her  beautiful  t-oubled  face 
was  the  jury,  Mary  Ann  the  witness,  and  Olive 


ir 

gi 
s< 

cl 

•c 
b( 
ht 
an 
ni 
hii 
ba 

CO 

sti 
fol 
th< 
the 

"g 
kei 

grc 

sta; 


:.*;: 


IS  you  have, 
Helper  was 
,  that  Her- 
Li  remember 

nt  back  to 
ing,  outside 
ong  will  of 
ity,  and  his 
led  it.  His 
:  Olive  and 
lad  mamma 
her  second 
lis  brother's 
'erbert  was 
was  in  his 
I   Ray   now 

en  Herbert 

that  room, 

oubled  face 

5,  and  Olive 


I 


UNDER   THE   WHITE   FLAG. 


51 


special  pleader  for  the  prisoner,  whose  part  she 
invariably  took.  He  remembered  now  how  very 
grave  the  judge  always  was,  and  that  his  face 
seldom  relaxed  into  a  smile,  even  over  Olive's 
childish  pleas,  some  of  which  he  now  recalled. 

"Hervie  didn't  do  it,  she  knew  he  didn't, 
'cause  he  was  good,  always  good,  and  loved  her 
better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world.     And  if 
he  did  so  it  'twas  'cause  Mary  Ann  was  horrid 
and  he  ought  to  pay  her  off,  and  he  was  just  the 
nicest  brother  in  the  world,"  stopping  to  pat 
him  and  place  a  kiss  on  the  end  of  his  nose ;  a 
baby  habit  she  was  just  outgrowing.     He  never 
could  forget  one  occasion  when    this  self-con- 
stituted  little  advocate  declared  warmly  that  Irish 
folks  ought  not  to  be  allowed  in  court,  "'cause 
they  disremembered  everything  and  mixed  up  all 
the  rest."     Which  made  the  prisoner  laugh  out- 
right, and  brought  the  judge  and  jury's  hand- 
kerchiefs  to   their   mouths,   though   their  eyes 
grew  sad  as  this  eloquent  lawyer  went  on   to 
state  that  she  was  the  real  culprit  and  ought  to 


m" 


Mi 


52 


UNDER   THE   WHITE    FLAG. 


!; 


be  the  prisoner,  for  she  threw  the  pillow  at 
Mary  Ann's  head,  and  imitated  Herbert's  voice 
and  called  her  "  Ould  Ireland." 

At  which  Mary  Ann  rolled  up  her  eyes,  and 
clasped  her  hands  in  horror,  while  the  prisoner 
being  released.  Miss  Olive  was  given  his  place, 
for  she  had  told  an  untruth  in  hopes  of  shield- 
ing her  brother.  In  vain  both  boys  plead  for 
her.  She  was  kept  in  close  confinement  until 
she  repented,  and  confessed,  and  then  was  sent 
to  bed  in  disgrace.  She  was  not  supperless ; 
but  her  meal  had  been  very  plain,  and  Ray,  in 
the  compassion  of  his  heart,  smuggled  her  a  tart 
and  a  slice  of  frosted  cake  from  the  supper  table. 
For  a  long  time  after  that  Herbert  called  her 
nothing  but  his  little  "  Irish  attorney,"  declaring 
she  had  perpetrated  a  bull  worthy  of  the  best 
Paddy  that  ever  lived. 

It  was  over  two  years  now  since  Herbert  had 
been  in  disgrace.  It  was  only  occasionally  he 
had  ever  been,  but  it  ended  altogether  the  night 
he   rose  for   prayers   in  the   small   vestry,  and 


c 

s 
e 

r 
<( 

c 

P 

0 

t 

ti 


■^'Sia*!. 


I 


le   pillow  at 
rbert's  voice 

er  eyes,  and 
the  prisoner 
n  his  place, 
es  of  shield- 
ys  plead  for 
ement  until 
en  was  sent 
supperless ; 
and  Ray,  in 
ed  her  a  tart 
supper  table, 
t  called  her 
f,"  declaring 
of  the  best 

Herbert  had 

;asiona]ly  he 

er  the  night 

vestry,  and 


father  and  mother  came  home  with  such  shining 
faces.  He  had  been  different  since.  Still  Ray 
and  Olive  carried  to  him  difficult  problems  and 
troubles  of  every  kind.  He  was  their  hero, 
their  comforter,  counsellor,  the  dear  big  brother, 
but  they  never  expected  him  to  get  into  a 
"  scrape  "  now  ;  they  would  as  soon  expect  it  of 
their  father.  Once  in  a  while  Ray  had  seen  him 
enter  papa's  study,  with  a  troubled  face,  and 
come  out  with  red  eyes.  But  there  was  always 
such  a  smile  on  the  lips  under  the  eyes,  Ray 
envied  him. 

All  this  flashed  through  Raymond  Gardcnell's 
mind  in  answer  to  his  father's  question. 
"  Papa,"  he  said,  putting  out  his  hands,  and 
clasping  the  neck  bowed  towards  him.  Then 
papa  drew  his  great  boy  to  his  knee  —  it  was  the 
only  natural  way  for  any  of  tho»r.  to  sit  —  and 
the  curly  head  fell  on  the  broad  shoulder  meant 
to  support  it,  while  a  broken  little  voice  said, 
"  Papa,  you're  right,  and  I  am  wrong.  I'd  give 
lots  to  be  like  you  and  Herbert.     I  do  try.     I 


"Vi^. 


54 


UNDER   THE   WHITE   FLAG. 


pray  sometimes,  but  I  fail.  I  ask  for  help,  and 
it  doesn't  come." 

And  papa  whispered :  "  Isn't  it  because  you 
do  not  open  your  door  wide  enough  to  let  your 
Helper  in  ?  It  is  He  that  overcomes  ;  we  can 
only  let  Him." 

And  just  then  the  study  door  flew  open,  and  a 
very  merry  little  voice  said,  as  its  owner  stopped 
in  apparent  dismay,  "  Why,  if  the  judge  and  jury 
and  all  the  court  hasn't  the  prisoner  right  on 
its  knee !  That  isn't  dignified,  but  it's  nice, 
isn't  it,  Ray  ?     It's  a  quarter  of  two." 

Ray  jumped  up.  "  I  didn't  suppose  it  was 
half  that  time  ;  my  whole  noon  gone." 

"  Angy  Baron  brought  in  her  be-au-ti-ful 
bracelet  for  me  to  see,  and  I  forgot  everything, 
even  you,  you  poor  prisoner.  But  what  has  the 
court  decided  ? "  proceeded  Miss  Busybody, 
holding  the  judge  by  the  ears,  while  she  kissed 
his  nose. 

Then  the  judge  arose  with  great  dignity,  and 
declared  that  the  court  had   decided  that  the 


L 


•r  help,  and 


UNDER   THE    WHITE    FLAG. 


55 


ecaiise  you 
to  let  your 
;s  ;  we  can 

open, and  a 

ner  stopped 

Ige  and  jury 

er  right  on 

it  it's  nice, 
II 

pose  it  was 
If 

be-au-ti-ful 
everything, 
irhat  has  the 

Busybody, 
;  she  kissed 

dignity,  and 
ed  that  the 


"-^P?***>'' 


money  be  paid  immediately,  producing  a  sliver 
dollar  and  passing  it  to  Ray.  "  It  had  also 
decided,"  with  great  emphasis  on  the  verb, 
"  that  henceforth  the  sum  of  five  cents  be 
deducted  from  Ray  Gardcnell's  monthly  allow- 
ance every  time  a  penny  was  called  for  before  it 
was  due." 

"  My  !  "  commented  Olive,  "  what'll  become 
of  you  now,  Ray  }  " 

"  My  !  "  echoed  Ray,  "  I'll  have  to  turn  over 
a  new  leaf  sure,  whether  I  want  to  or  not." 


rmn 


'2  .  ■:  i 


CHAPTER  V. 

TOMMY. 

"  How  underneath  wintry  snows, 
The  iiivij-ible  iieirts  of  flowers 

Grow  ripe  for  blossoming, 
And  the  lives  that  seem  so  cold. 
May  be  casi  in  gentlest  mould, 

May  be  full  of  love  and  spring." 

WHY,  if  it  isn't  little  Tommy  Gardenell !  " 
and  Miss  Johanna  Ralison,  answering 
the  knock  at  her  back  door,  looked  down  in 
feigned  surprise  at  a  very  neatly-dressed  little 
figure,  with  the  brightest  of  eyes,  and  the 
rosiest  of  cheeks,  peeping  out  from  under  a 
new  spring  hat. 

The  face  clouded  perce;;tibly,  anv;  the  eyes 
flashed  ominously  .?t  this  greeting.  There  was 
a  little  flush  of  shame,  too.  C'li.e  quite  knew 
Miss  Ralison  was  thinking  of  tliat  fortnight-old 
affray  in  the  street     Had   she  not   seen   her 

5< 


^^^^•*''- 


ardencll ! " 
answering 
I  down  in 
:ssed  little 
,  and  the 
under   a 

>  the  eyes 
There  was 
uite  knev^ 
rtnight-old 
seen   her 


TOMMY. 


57 


1 


old  friend's  face  at  the  window  that  day  ?  Miss 
Johanna  had  raised  it  once  with  a  suggestive 
"  01i\-e  Gardenoll !  "  and  rapped  on  it  several 
times,  until  the  excited  child  shook  her  fist  at 
her,  and  cried  out,  "  Stop  your  noise,  you  horrid 
old  Jo  ! " 

She  had  quite  forgotten  that  day's  mishaps  ~ 
it  seemed  so  long  ago  — and  now  this  unac- 
knowledged and  unforgiven  part  of  it  confronted 
her  with  fresh  humiliation.  It  had  taken  place 
the  last  day  of  school,  before  the  spring  vacation, 
and  so  much  had  happened  since !  The  warm 
weather  had  come,  and  papa  had  made  so  many 
delightful  little  trips  with  his  merry  brood  since 
—  only  yesterday  taking  them  to  the  country  — 
that  all  disagreeables  had  been  driven  out  of  Miss 
Olive's  curly  head,  and  she  had  started  on  her 
errand  to  her  "dear  J's,"  as  she  called  the  two 
Miss  Ralisons,  with  a  very  light  heart, 

Johanna  and  Jennie  Ralison  were  the  last  of 
a  respected  and  once  wealthy  family.  Mis- 
fortune had  reached  them.     On  a  part  of  what 


^A-'*-- 


58 


TOMMY. 


il 


had  once  been  their  father's  estate  stood  the 
substantial  brick  schoolhouse,  where  Mr.  Gar- 
dcncll's  children  spent  so  many  happy  hours. 
The  front  lot  had  been  sold  to  a  stranger ;  all 
that  remained  to  thorn  was  this  yellow  house. 
It  was  a  good-sized,  substantial  building,  with 
an  cU  and  a  very  small  back  yard,  wliere  the 
sisters  raised  a  few  posies,  and  which  they 
designated  as  "  our  garden." 

This  house  stood  on  the  right-hand  side  of 
the  narrow  walk  that  led  to  the  schoolhouse, 
and  both  stood  back  from  the  street.  The 
larger  part  of  the  house  the  sisters  rented,  and 
this  was  their  only  income.  The  ell  with  its 
tiny  sitting-room,  kitchen  and  pantry  below,  and 
two  chambers  above  was  their  domicile,  their 
chief  excitement  and  entertainment  being  fur- 
nished by  the  school  children. 

Both  the  sisters  found  interest  in  these  :  Miss 
Johanna  noting  all  their  battles,  shortcomings, 
unnecessary  noises,  Miss  Jennie,  by  some  means 
or  other,  becoming   their  ally,  counsellor,   de- 


'tl-.'^d- 


ma 


TOMMY. 


59 


!  Stood  the 
e  Mr.  Gar- 
ppy  hours, 
ranger ;  all 
How  house. 
Iding,  with 
where  the 
vhich   they 

nd  side  of 
:hoolhouse, 
reet.  The 
rented,  and 
11  with  its 
below,  and 
licile,  their 
being  fur- 

jese :  Miss 
)rtcomings, 
ome  means 
iscllor,   de- 


fender and  surgeon.  How  this  came  to  pass 
Miss  Jennie  herself  woulil  have  been  puzzled  to 
say,  or  if  Miss  Johanna  was  as  blind  to  the  pro- 
ceedings about  her  as  appeared,  was  never  fully 
ascertained.  But  certain  it  is  that  bloody 
noses,  wounded  fingers,  and  even  torn  pants 
found  their  way  to  that  back  door,  and  were 
severally  attended  to,  with  sundry  gentle  pats, 
and  not  a  few  kisses,  administered  surreptitiously 
without  the  supposed  knowledge  of  Miss  Jo. 

Miss  Jennie  often  wondered  at  the  fortune 
that  kept  her  sister  engaged  in  some  other  part 
of  the  house  on  these  occasions.  She  was 
thankful,  however,  for  hers  was  a  gentle,  timid 
nature,  unused  and  unfit  to  battle  with  the 
strong  will  of  her  only  relative,  and  she  was 
sure  these  children  were  a  sore  trial  to  Johanna. 

Olive  loved  both  the  sisters  after  a  fashion. 
"  My  dear  Miss  Jo  is  a  splendid  old  hateful," 
she  confessed  to  Ray,  "  but  precious  Miss  Je 
is  honey  and  down." 

Now  she  stood  quite  conscious  she  owed  an 


\ 


6o 


TOMMY. 


apolojjy  to  Miss  Jo  for  past  rudeness,  and  sure 
she  would  have  to  give  it  some  day,  to  case 
her  conscience  ;  but  how  could  she  do  it  now, 
with  tiiose  gray,  gray  eyes  looking  down  on  her, 
as  with  dainty  basket  on  one  arm,  the  other 
h  .:)d  behind  her,  she  flashed  defiance  from  the 
blue  eyes  under  her  new  hat.  If  only  Miss  Jo 
wouldn't  be  so  horrid  !  But  Miss  Jo  was  just 
Miss  Jo,  and  repeated  in  her  peculiar  tone  :  — 

"  Little  Tommy  Gardenell,  how  is  your  ma 
and  pa  ?  Hadn't  you  better  come  in  ?  I  sup- 
pose you  have  an  errand.'" 

"  Not  to  you,  Miss  Vinegar  and  Gall.  I  wish 
to  see  the  lady  of  the  house,"  replied  the  little 
girl,  with  much  dignity  and  great  emphasis. 

"  Oh,  oh !  Jennie,  Jennie,"  looking  over  her 
shoulder,  and  addressing  the  lady  in  the  sitting, 
room  beyond,  "do  you  know  :  mmy  Gar- 
denell .' " 

"No.  I  am  not  acquainted  with  Tommy," 
chirped  back  Miss  Jennie  in  her  weak  soprano, 
"but  I  know  Miss  Oily  well,  and  I'm  sure  I'm 


TOMMY. 


6i 


iSi  and  sure 
ly,  to  case 
tlo  it  now, 
•wn  on  her, 
the  other 
e  from  the 
ly  Miss  Jo 

0  was  just 
tone :  — 

<  your  nia 

1  ?     I  sup- 

II.     I  wish 
the  little 
hasis. 

over  her 
lie  sitting- 
imy    Gar- 
Tommy," 
sojjrano, 
sure  I'm 


not  mistaken  in  her  sweet  voice.  Let  her 
come  in,  Sister."  And  without  ceremony,  Olive 
dashed  past  Miss  Jo,  crossed  the  kitchen  with 
a  bound,  laid  her  basket  at  her  friend's  feet, 
and  dropping  beside  it  kissed  her  hand,  while 
she  cried :  — 

"Such  nice  cream  pie,  and  delicious  tarts, 
and  —  and  something  better  than  both  of  them 
together ;  and  it's  all  for  you,  you  darling. 
Don't  you  let  cross  old  Jo  have  one  thing 
'cept  — 'cept  just  the  littlest  tart  that's  there." 

Then  Miss  Johanna  closed  the  door  between 
them  and  the  kitchen,  and  went  about  her  work, 
a  smile  twitching  the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"  She's  '  game,'  as  the  boys  say  ;  but  I'd  like 
to  know  how  it  happens  father  and  mother  are 
both  left  out  of  her  make-up.  But  then,  it  was 
so  with  me.  Mother  was  handsome,  and  father 
a  gentleman,  and  "  —  the  rest  was  lost  as  she 
went  up-stairs  to  make  the  beds. 

"There,  did  you  ever  see  anything  so  lovely  ! 
Oh !   don't  they  bring  the  little  birds,  and  the 


''\ 


...^.-.,MMWs.i.. 


'H 


ilfi 


62 


TOMMY. 


grnss,  and  everything  else  beautiful  into  your 
heart,  just  to  look  in  their  darling  eyes  ?"  cried 
Olive,  with  what  Ray  would  have  called  a  poetic 
"streak,"  as  she  lifted  a  bunch  of  delicious 
violets  to  Miss  Jennie's  nose. 

"  They   came   this    morning  from  —  ever  so 
far,  done  up  in  moss,  in  a  box   to   keep  them 
fresh.     Isn't  it  nice  to  be  like  my  mamma,  and 
ha-e  everybody  love  you,  and  isn't  it  nice  to  be 
me,  and  have  mamma  >     I  kept  them  behind  my 
back  ever  minute,  for  fear  the  thunder  in  Miss 
Jo's  face  would  blight  them  in  their  beauty," 
falling  into  another  streak.     "  There,"  fastening 
part  of  them  on  her  friend's  bosom,  and  walking 
away,  head  this  side  and  that,  to  note  the  effect, 
"you   are  just   lovely,   like    them.      They  are 
yours  ;  you  shall  have  every  one  of  them,     i  did 
int(,nd    to    give   Miss  Jo  some   of  them,   but 
she  is  so  —  so  peculiar—  I  really  don't  want  to 
oay  anychi"g  naughty,  and  have  to  repent  and 
'fess  again.     I  hate  repenting,  don't  you.  Miss 
Jennie  ?    A  person   can't  repent  without  'fess- 


i 


il  into  your 
yes?"  cried 
lied  a  poetic 
3f  delicious 

I  —  ever  so 
keep  them 
lamma,  and 
nice  to  be 
behind  my 
ler  in  Miss 
r  beauty," 
'  fastening 
id  walking 
the  effect, 
They  are 
-m.     I  did 
them,   but 
't  want  to 
;pent  and 
you.  Miss 
lout  'fess- 


TOMMV. 


63 


ing;  if  they  only  could  it  would  be  such  a 
blessing,"  sighing,  and  not  noticing  the  smile 
on  her  friend's  lips. 

"  Please,  Miss  Jennie,  may  I  comb  your  hair  ? 
I  won't  disturb  you  the  leastest  bit ;  you  can  go 
on  with  your  sewing.  I  comb  mamma's  some- 
times, and  yours  would  look  so  nice  done  up  her 
way.  You  don't  begin  to  know  how  funny  you 
loo'r,  your  hair  dragged  back  so  straight  and  set ; 
not  a  bit  like  yourself." 

"  I  felt  sick  this  morning,  and  sister  combed 
my  hair." 

"  I  knew  it,  and  it  will  never  do.  You're  not 
a  bit  like  her,  you  know.  You  were  made  for 
soft  laces  and  loose  coils,  and  —  and  —  violets," 
tripping  back  and  forth,  with  comb  and  brush. 

"  Miss  Jo  was  meant  —  was  meant  —  well, 
she's  quite  good,  only  —  only  —  dear  Je  do 
you  believe  it  is  wicked  to  think  some  folks 
are  mistakes,  and  were  meant  — •  meant  for  men 
instead  of  women  >  Not  that  I  think  God  ever 
made  a  mistake  ;  that  would  be  dreadful ;  but  — 


^■^ 


r 


MS 


f/s^.-,^«,  ■. 


64 


TOMMY. 


but  —  some  one  did,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder," 
slowly,  •'  but  it  was  Satan.     He  does  mix  things 
dreadfully    sometimes,    you    know.      Why,   he 
made  Eve   believe   that  p'raps  God  didn't  tell 
the    truth,   and    I    guess    he    made    Miss    Jo 
kind  of  mannish;   not  much,  you  know,  but  a 
little.     O,  Jennie  !  how  soft  and  nice  your  hair 
is.     It  is  silky,  like  mamma's,  only  mamma's  is 
dark  and  —  and  —  numerous,  and  yours  is  light 
and  kind  of  thin  ;  but   they're  both  feathery  ; 
puffy,  you  know.    Why,  all  that  hair  of  mamma's 
is  as  light  as -light  as— I  don't  know  what. 
Oh  !  how  sweet  you  do  look  with  those  violets  in 
your  hair.     You  darling,  you  are  as  pretty  and 
young  with  that  pink  in  your  cheeks  !     Miss  Jo, 
Miss  Jo,"  springing  to  the  door,  and  hopping  up 
and   down   with   delight,  forgetful   of  her   late 
dudgeon,  "  Miss  Jo,  come  here,  quick !  " 

In  the  pantry  mixing  bread,  Jo's  thoughts  had 
been  wandering  as  she  sifted  and  stirred.  That 
call  roused  her.  Had  Jennie,  the  only  one  she 
had  left,  taken  another  ill   turn  >    The  spoon 


t 
c 
i: 
ii 

h 
c 

h 

k 

g 
n 
d 


liMlM>ii«Hil«4iai«i« 


TOMMY. 


65 


't  wonder," 
mix  things 
Why,   he 
didn't  tell 
!    Miss    Jo 
now,  but  a 
:  your  hair 
namma's  is 
irs  is  light 
feathery  ; 
f  mamma's 
now  what. 
i  violets  in 
pretty  and 
Miss  Jo, 
opping  up 
her   late 

It 

ughts  had 
ed.  That 
y  one  she 
he   spoon 


dropped  from  her  fingers  ;  she  forgot  to  wipe  her 
careful  hands  as  she  sprang  in  answer  to  the 
cry. 

"  Oh  !  look,  look  !  Isn't  she  lovely  ?  "  The 
open  door  revealed,  not  what  she  feared,  but 
such  a  fair,  sweet  face,  it  seemed  a  part  of  her 
late  dream  —  a  phantom  from  the  past.  The 
sunny  locks  caught  here  and  there  with  violets, 
the  tiny  bunch  beside  her  throat,  the  flickering 
color  in  the  cheeks  all  seemed  parts  of  her  van- 
ished youth.  Olive  was  satisfied  as  she  looked 
in  Johanna's  eyes. 

"  You  old  darling  !  "  she  said  generously.  "  I 
have  two  violets  left  and  you  shall  have  them. 
Stoop  down,  and  let  me  put  them  in  your 
hair." 

"  Go  away,  child !  I  don't  want  yc-ur  violets ; 
keep  them  out  of  my  sight,"  pushing  the  little 
girl  one  side.  "Ennie  dear,"  using  the  pet 
name  her  sister  had  not  heard  in  years,  "  Ennie 
dear,  you  look  as  you  did  thirty  years  ago.  It's 
about  the  same  time  of  year,  too."     Stooping, 


T 


66 


TOMMY. 


l\  -■ 


she  kissed  her  sister's  cheek  and  went  out,  and 
Olive  stood  looking  Pt  her  two  violets  with 
indignant  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  mustn't  mind  her,  dear,"  said  Jennie 
gently.  "  She  did  not  mean  to  grieve  you  ;  the 
flowers  were  more  than  she  could  bear.  You  did 
not  know  we  had  a  brother  once  —  an  adopted 
brother — but  dearer  than  life  to  us  both  }  Yes, 
it  was  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  just  such  a 
morning  as  this,  he  decked  me  out  with  violets 
like  these — great  purple  beauties,  the  first  of 
the  season,  and  fit  to  crown  his  queen,  he  said. 
He  kissed  me  when  he  left  me,  as  she  did  just 
now.  He  never  came  back  to  us.  They  brought 
him  back  dead.  Johanna  covered  his  coffin  with 
violets  and  planted  them  on  his  grave,  and  she 
never  has  wanted  to  touch  one  since.  Poor 
Johanna !  she  loved  Robert  so  much." 

So  much!  How  much  she  never  guessed  and 
never  could.  In  the  kitchen,  with  set  lips  and 
drawn  brows,  a  woman  fought  her  heart.  She 
must  live  for  the  one  of  whom  he  said  to  her 


TOMMY, 


67 


'ent  out,  and 
violets   with 

said   Jennie 

ve  you ;  the 

ar.     You  did 

-an  adopted 

both  ?     Yes, 

just  such  a 

with  violets 

the  first  of 

een,  he  said. 

she  did  just 

'hey  brought 

is  coflfin  with 

ive,  and  she 

since.     Poor 
If 

guessed  and 

set  lips  and 

heart.     She 

said  to  her 


that  fatal  morning,  "  You  and  I  will  spread  her 
path  with  violets.  You  will  not  be  sorry,  will 
you,  dear  old  Jo,  when  I  become  your  tru!  • 
brother  ? " 

"  Oh  !  how  sad  ;  and  you  loved  him  too.  Miss 
Jennie?"  asked  Olive,  a  great  lump  in  her  throat 
and  ajieavy  feeling  in  her  heart. 

"O,  yes!"  replied  Miss   Ralison.     "I  lovad 
him  better  than  everything  else  in  all  the  world. 
I  suffered  at  first,  and  I  wept  so  much  "  was 
very  sick  and  a  burden  to  Johanna.     But  she 
was  brave  and  patient  with  me.     Now  I  think 
of  him  with  Jesus,  and  there  is  no  pain  in  the 
thought.     I  expect  to  meet  him  by  and  by.     I 
never  speak   of    him   now.      I   should   like   to 
sometimes,  but  I  find  Johanna  cannot  bear  it. 
I  tried  it  once  or  twice,  but  she  looked  so  terri- 
bly that  I  did  not  try  it  again.     She  is  different 
from  me." 

"So  would  I  be,"  cried  Olive,  with  sudden 
consciousness  of  affinity  with  Miss  Jo,  "so 
would  I  be  if  Hervie  died.     I  could  not,  could 


68 


TOMMY. 


m 


not  get  over  it,"  with  a  little  sob.  "  I  could 
never  forgive  God ;  I  could  never  be  happy  wilh 
him  way  off  in  Heaven,  and  me  here.  You  are 
good,  Miss  Jennie,  and  so  is  my  papa  and 
mamma.  Good  people  love  all  God's  ways,  but 
—  but  — I'm  sorry  I  called  her  Vinegar  and 
Gall,  and  you  may  give  her  half  of  the  pie  and 
the  biggest  tart,  and  —  and  —  poor  dear  old  Jo," 
and  down  went  Olive's  head  in  Miss  Ralison's 
lap  and  she  cried  heartily. 

Miss  Jo  was  picking  over  beans  by  the  kitchen 
window  when  Olive  was  ready  to  go.  Her  face 
was  very  stern  ;  sorrow  makes  some  faces  stern. 
She  was  so  preoccupied  she  did  not  see  the  little 
figure  all  ready  to  depart  looking  at  her  out  of 
wistful  eyes  much  resembling  two  great  violets 
heavy  with  dew. 

A  long,  deep  sigh  attracted  the  woman's  atten- 
tion, and  she  started  a  little. 

"  Why,  child,  how  queer  you  act.  What  are 
you  sighing  about  >"  she  asked  sharply. 

"  My  sins,"  replied  Olive  solemnly. 


tl 


TOMMY. 


69 


).  "  I  could 
e  happy  wilh 
■e.  You  are 
y  papa  and 
d's  ways,  but 
V^inegar  and 
the  pie  and 
dear  old  Jo," 
iss  Ralison's 

J  the  kitchen 
0.  Her  face 
faces  stern, 
see  the  little 
It  her  out  of 
great  violets 

(man's  atten- 

What  are 
ply. 


A  smile  flickered  over  Miss  Ralison's  face. 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  continued  the  child  humbly. 

"  Sorry  for  what }  "  still  sharply. 

"  'Cause,  —  'cause  you  don't  like  violets." 

"Who  told  you  I  didn't  like  violets  ?     I  love 
them  better  than  any  other  flower  in  the  world." 

"But  — but  you  wouldn't  take  them." 

"They  stifle  me,  they  stifle  me ;  I  can't  breathe 
where  they  are,"  said  Miss  Johanna,  catching 
her  breath  as  if  they  were  oppressing  her  then. 
But  she  looked  more  kindly  at  the  little  girl, 
recalling  that  long  ago  when  at  that  very  door 
a  tall,  lithe  figure  stood  in  drab  overcoat,  with 
violets  at  its  button-hole,  while  the  sun  that 
glinted  on  this  child's  curls  turned  his  to  threa:? 
of  gold  as  he  kissed  his  hand  to  her  and  laughed 
his  happy  "  good-by  !  "     Yes,  she  loved  violets. 

"I  —  I'm  sorry  I  called  you  old  Jo,  and  you 
ain't  Miss  Vinegar  and  Gall,  and  I  do  love 
you  some  when  you  let  me,  and  I  want  you  to 
eat  the  pie  and  tarts,  and  I'm  sorry  you've  got 
an  ache,  and  I  wish  I  could  comfort  you ;  but 


I 


^o 


TOMMY. 


,'lli 


li' 


1;  t  i;!;  '  you  won't  let  me  or  anybody  else  — 
a;/  1  iav.i  ")u  best  'cause  —  'cause  you  don't 
forget  Rol:_i£.  It's  just  hateful  to  forget,  and 
I  couldn't." 

Johanna  Ralison  laid  down  her  pan  of  beans 
and  looked  at  the  little  one,  who  had  drawn 
nearer  and  nearer  to  her  during  this  speech. 

"Well,  if  ever  I  saw  such  a  child,"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  No ;  I  guess  you  never  did.  I'm  not  good," 
said  Olive  meekly.  "  I  never  could  be  good 
enough  to  forget,  and  —  and  I've  always  got  to 
repent  and  'fcss  somf^thing,  but->-but  I  want 
to  be  good  some,  and  I'm  sorry  I  got  cross,  and 
you  can  call  me  Tommy  if  you  want  to,  and"  — 

"Hoity,  toity,"  broke  in  Miss  Reilison, 
*'  You're  not  quite  a  little  heathen,  I  guess, 
though  you  act  much  like  it  at  times.  Why, 
when  you're  quiet  and  lady-like  your  voice  is 
quite  like  your  mother's ;  and  never  were  two 
pairs  of  eyes  in  two  heads  as  like  as  yours  and 
your  father's.     Don't  get   discouraged  ;   there's 


r 
c 

V 
0 

f( 


H^>!IMiMnM 


TOMMY. 


71 


)ocly  else  — 

J  you  don't 

forget,  and 

an  of  beans 
had  drawn 
speech. 

Id,"  she  ex- 

r>  not  good," 
lid  be  good 
ways  got  to 
■but  I  want 
)t  cross,  and 
:  to,  and"  — 
ss  Rp.lison, 
2n,  I  guess, 
mes.  Why, 
our  voice  is 
er  were  two 
,s  yours  and 
>-ed ;   there's 


hopvs  for  you,  child,  while  there's  anything  like 
your  pa.  -nts  about  you.  We'll  rub  out  the  old 
score,  shake  hands  and  begin  over  again." 

Olive  took  the  extended  hand,  but  she  looked 
unsatisfied. 

"Well,  what  else.'"  questioned  Miss  Jo,  with 
a  half-smile. 

"If  you'd  let  me  kiss  you." 
Down  went  the  stiff  neck.     How  the  little 
warm  arms   hugged  it !      "  P'r'aps   he   used   to 
hug  you  so,"  she  whispered,  "your  dear,  dear 
brother.     There's  a  kiss  from  me  to  make  up, 
and  there's  one  for  comfort,  and  "  — lingeringly 
—  "there,  that    is   for  Robert,"  putting  a  kiss 
right  on  the  tip  of  Miss  Jo's  nose.     Then  Olive 
darte>    out  of  the  door  as  if  she  surmised  what 
would  f.  low,  and  saw  Miss  Johanna's  head  fall 
on  the  t    Ae  while  she  sobbed  with  all  her  might. 
"  God  bless  that  baby  !  "  she  said  amid  her  tears, 
for,  true  as  strange,  no  human  sympathy  since 
Robert  died  had  been  as  zeal  to  her  as  this. 
"Im   a   fool,"  she   said   presently;   "but   to 


"•i"*.^, 


iillii 


72 


TOMMV. 


think  that  child  has  such  a  heart.  There's  a 
good  deal  of  flash  to  her,  but  it's  the  flash  of 
the  diamond.  Poor  little  Tommy  !  "  with  some- 
thing like  a  real  laugh  as  she  recalled  that  kiss 
on  the  nose. 

Perhaps  her  heart  was  lighter  for  her  tears, 
for  when,  a  little  after,  she  heard  her  sister 
repeating  softly,  "  Into  each  life  some  rain  nust 
fall,"  she  replied  cheerily  :  — 

"And  it's  well  'tis  so.  Think  of  a  world 
without  a  bit  of  rain  to  sweeten  it,  or  a  day  of 
glare  and  no  twilight  to  soften  it.  I  guess  God 
knows  best,"  and  Jennie  looked  her  astonish- 
ment out  of  her  mild  eyes. 


■Mil 


Ml&iR'p''" 


There's  a 
he  flash  of 
with  some- 
I  that  kiss 

her  tears, 
her  sister 
rain    nust 

)f  a  world 
or  a  day  of 
guess  God 
r  astonish- 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HARDTV  GOOD  ENOUGH  TO  DIE  YOUNG. 

So  wise,  so  young  they  say,  do  ne'er  live  long. 

King  Richard  hi. 

/^  MAMMA ! "  cried   Olive,   a  little  later 
V-/     that    day,   bursting    into   her   mother's 
room  with  all  the  pent-up  feelings  of  her  soul 
rushing  to  her  lips  at  once,  "  O,  mamma!  those 
violets  were  dreadful  and  lovely,  and  Miss  Jennie 
looked  like  an  angel,  and  Miss  Jo  loves  them, 
but  she  can't  bear  them  'cause  they  stifle  her, 
and— and    she's   got   an    ache,   and    I   wish    1 
could  comfort  her,  but  I  wouldn't  never,  never, 
never  forget  Herbert,  and  I'd  never  forgive  God 
for  taking  him,  and  I'm  most  sure  he  will  'cause 
he's  so  good  and  I'm  so  uncodiciled." 

And  mamma,  laughing,  took   the   poor  little 
doleful  face,  with  its  quivering  lips,  between  her 

73 


^mm 


I 


\'-]\ 


I  : 


74   HARDI.V  GOOD  ENOUOH  TO  niK  YOUNG. 

hands,  and  kissed  brow,  eyes,  check,  chin  and 
nose-tip  before  removing  the  pretty  hat  with  its 
blue  ribbons. 

"  Mamma,  I  kissed  her  right  on  the  tip  of  her 
nose." 

"Who,  darling  .>" 

"Miss  Jo,"  replied  the  child  gravely. 

"O,  my  girlie!  "  laughed  mamma,  at  thought 
of  dear  straight-backeil  Miss  Johanna  submit- 
ting to  such  an  indignity.  "How  in  the  world 
did  you  manage  it .'     And  what  did  she  say  .' " 

"  Oh  !  it  was  for  Robert,  you  sec.  I  didn't 
really  want  to,  you  know,  'cause  those  kisses  are 
Hcrby's,  and  papa's,  and  yours,  and  Ray's  once 
in  a  while  when  he  don't  tease.  But  —  but,  O, 
mamma!  Miss  Jo  has  .su  'i  an  ache;  and  I 
couldn't  help  think  if  it  had  been  Ilcrvie,  and 
so  —  and  so  I  did  give  her  a  nosy  kiss." 

Mamma  was  mystified  with  "  Robert "  and 
the  "ache,"  but  she  knew  time  and  patience 
would  get  at  the  bottom  of  things.  Just  now 
her  daughter  needed  diversion  and  sympathy. 


UARDLV  GOOD  ENOUGH  TO  DIE  YOUNG.   75 


c,  chin  and 
hat  with  its 

L'  tip  of  her 


at  thought 
iia  submit- 
11  the  world 
he  say  ? " 
;.  T  didn't 
e  kisses  are 
Ray's  once 
t  — but,  O, 
he  ;  and  I 
Icrvie,  and 

)bcrt "  and 
(1    patience 
Just   now 
mpathy. 


"Just  like  my  generous  little  Olive,"  she  said, 
"  but  how  did  Miss  Ralison  take  it,  darling?" 

"I  s'pose  I  oughtn't  to  know,  mamma,  for  she 
gave  a  little  sniff  and  I  ran  off  quick ;  but  I 
looked  back  and  her  head  wasn't  up  at  the  win- 
dow, and  I  know  she  didn't  move,  so  I  s'pect  it 
was  on  the  table  and  she  was  crying.  I  thought 
she  would ;  that's  why  I  ran.  It  was  alt  the 
violets,  mamma,  the  violets  and— and  Robert. 
He  went  and  died,  and  they  covered  him  with 
violets,  and  now  they  stifle  Miss  Jo  and  she 
can't  bear  them." 

"And  Robert  was.'"  qucstioningly. 
"  Her  brother.  O,  mamma !  let  me  tell  you 
all  about  it,  only  you'll  be  sorry,  for  I  was 
naughty,  and  when  Miss  Jo  called  me  Tommy 
Gardcnell  I  "  —  lowering  her  head  and  speaking 
slowly  — "I  called  her  Miss  Vinegar  and  Gall 
and  asked  for  th-^  lady  of  the  house,  as  if  she 
wasn't  one.  But,  namma,  I  asked  her  forgive- 
ness and  repented  all  right,  and  I'm  willing  you 
should   think  me  very  naughty  or  anythin"-,  if 


w 


.f!^ 


76   HARDLY  GOOD  ENOUGH  TO  DIE  YOUNG. 

you'll  only  help  me  to  comfort  Miss  Jo  and  ask 
God  not  to  take  Hervie,  'cause  I  want  to  be 
good  some,  only  I  couldn't  iicver  forget  him." 

Perhaps  Mrs.  GardencU  read  between  the  lines 
of  her  little  daughter's  story  ;  perhaps  she  under- 
stood more  of  the  silent  life  of  sorrow  hidden 
in  that  back  ell  than  the  sister  who  shared  it. 
Certain  it  is  from  that  hour  a  new  respect  for 
this  tall,  gaunt  woman  had  possession  of  that 
gentle  heart,  which  showed  itself  in  numberless 
delicate  acts  of  love. 

"  Poor  Miss  Johanna,"  she  said  in  tones  sympa- 
thetic enough  even  to  satisfy  her  small  daughter. 
"  We  will  ask  God  to  comfort  her  and  show  us 
how  to  help  her." 

"  And  Herbert,  mamma,  my  Herbert .'  " 

"Your  Herbert  is  the  dear  Lord's  own  pre- 
cious child,  and  I  think  He  has  work  for  him  to 
do  here  before  He  takes  him  to  Heaven.  My 
Oily  needs  to  love  and  trust  Jesus." 

They  prayed  together,  and  Olive  felt  lighter- 
hearted.      She    watched    her    favorite    brother 


YOUNG. 

Jo  and  ask 
want  to  be 
)rget  him." 
en  the  lines 

I  she  under- 
"o\v  hidden 
3  shared  it. 
respect  for 
on  of  that 
numberless 

mes  sympa- 

II  daughter, 
ad  show  us 

irt .? " 

s  own  pre- 
fer him  to 
;aven.     My 

felt  lighter- 
ite    brother 


HARDLY  GOOD  ENOUGH  TO  DIE  YOUNG.   yj 

sedulously,  however,  for  the  next  few  days, 
greatly  to  his  amusement ;  noted  what  he  ate, 
commented  on  his  color,  and  teased  him  into 
an  ^Jur  of  frolic  when  he  ought  to  have  been 
s'udying  his  Latin  lesson.  She  concluded,  as 
she  informed  Ray.  that  "  Hervie  was  hardly  good 
enough  to  die  yet,  for  it  was  kind  of  naughty  to 
play  in  study-hour,  and  it  was  only  good  boys 
who  died  young," 

But  Olive  did  not  forget  her  desire  to  comfort 
Miss  Ralison  ;  it  was  with  her  continually,  and 
at  last  showed  itself  to  the  amusement  of  all. 

"Are  you  boys  very  busy.?"  she  asked  one 
study-hour,  peeping  into  the  room  where  Her- 
bert and  Ray  sat  "pegging  away  "  at  their  Latin, 
according  to  Ray's  terminology. 

"  About  so,  so,"  laughed  Number  One  ;  but 
Number  Two  said  jokingly,  "What  next,  pray.? 
how  long  since  our  convenience  was  consulted 
when  Miss  Flyaway  had  business  on  hand.? 
Don't  stand  on  ceremony.  Princess ;  if  you  get 
too  good  you'll  die  young." 


r 


HARDLY  GOOD  ENOUGH  TO  DIE  YOUNG. 


I :     I! 


I ;  li  I  f  I 


"  There,  Ray  Gardenell,  if  I'd  quote  a  person's 
words  right  before  another  person.  If  I'm  not 
good,  there  are  some  things  I'm  above  doing." 

"  As  for  instance,  cajoling  a  fellow  into  play- 
ing away  his  study-hour  for  the  express  purpose 
of  proving  him  not  good  enough  to  die,"  laughed 
Sir  Tease.  "  To  beguile  a  fellow  mortal  into  sin 
with  the  selfish  desire  of  relieving  one's  own 
heart,  and  then  rejoicing,  yea,  exulting,  that  the 
victim  has  reached  the  level  of  his  betrayer,  that 
is  —  that  is,"  cried  Ray,  striking  an  attitude 
and  running  his  hand  through  his  hair,  "  that  is 
degradation  indeed." 

"  I  didn't ;  oh  !  I  didn't.  Hervie,  you  darling, 
you  are  just  as  good,  and  clean,  and  white,  and  I 
didn't  'zult  over  you,  did  I  ? "  cried  Olive,  flying 
to  her  brother's  side,  her  sensitive  conscience 
alarmed  at  once. 

"  If   I  am  deregration  you  are  gooder  than 
ever,  and  I'll  teil  God  so,  'cause  'twas  my  fault 
you  played  and  'glected  your  theology  lesson." 
Both  boys  were  laughing. 


c 

h 

t 

a) 

si 

sc 

de 
no 

ok 
da; 

ber 


S#Sk 


a  person  s 
f  I'm  not 
doing." 
into  play- 
is  purpose 
,"  laughed 
al  into  sin 
one's  own 
;,  that  the 
rayer,  that 
n  attitude 
r,  "  that  is 

3U  darling, 
hite,  and  I 
live,  flying 
conscience 

)oder  than 

s  my  fault 

lesson." 


HARDLY  GOOD  ENOUGH  TO  DIE  YOUNG.   79 

'O,  Princess,  Princess!"  cried  Ray.  with 
dewy  eyes,  "you  will  be  the  death  of  me  yet. 
Your  'deregration'  has  reached  your  brain  while 
Herv's  '  theology  '  is  still  all  in  his  heart.  Now 
here's  a  specimen  of  zoology  for  you ;  how  will 
you  classify  her,  Herv  > " 

'  Love  species."  laughed  Herbert,  pushing  the 
curls  from  the  sweet  face  and  drawing  her  to 
his  knee,  "  Precious,  Ray  is  suffering  from  a 
'streak';  you  ought  not  to  let  his  rhapsody 
alarm  you.  What  does  brother's  darling  want  > " 
Olive  was  easily  diverted.  "Are  there  any 
shorter  cafkisms  alive  now  .^ "  she  asked 
soberly. 

"No,"  struck  in  Ray  solemnly;  "they're  all 
dead.  Nothing  but  longer  catechisms  in  vogue 
now." 

"O  dear!"  sighed  Olive.  "Miss  Jo  is  so 
old-  she  forgot  there  wouldn't  be  any  these 
days." 

"  But  there  are.  darling,  lots  of  them."  Her- 
bert still  caressed  the  head  on  his  shoulder. 


,■■  j> 


w 


a 


80   HARDLY  GOOD  ENOUGH  TO  DIE  YOUNG. 

"  O,  you  wicked  boy  !  "  cried  Olive,  lifting  her 
head  to  shake  it  at  Ray. 

♦'  All  a  matter  of  opinion,  sir,  I  assure  you," 
answered   the   incorrigible.      "You   wished   to 
know   if  they  were   alive.     Herbert   takes  the 
affirmative  and  I  the  negative.     I've  had  some 
experience  in  the  matter,  having  got  acquainted 
with  the  article  in  question  while  at  Aunt  Sally's. 
I  give  you  my  word  as  a  gentleman,  they  are 
dead ;  as  dead  as  any  dead  language  in  existence, 
if  anything  can  be  said  to  be  dead  which  exists. 
That  the  books  are  still  to  be  found  argues  noth- 
ing whatever  as,  alas,  we  schoolboys  know  to  our 
sorrow,"  lifting  his  Caesar  with  his  toe  and  send- 
ing it  spinning  across  the  room. 

'  "  To  thy  grave,  thou  dead  and  long  since 
worthy  of  burial !  Take  rest  beside  thy  coldier- 
author.  I'd  gladly  sing  thy  requiem,"  he  cried 
theatrically. 

"  Streaks  !  "  cried  Olive,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  Streaks !  Hervie,  couldn't  you  get  me  a  shorter 
cat'kism  ? " 


^H  pi" 


k'OUNG. 


HARDLY   GOOD   KNOJGH   TO   THE   VOUNG.        8 1 


lifting  her 

sure  you," 
wished    to 
takes  the 
;  had  some 
acquainted 
unt  Sally's, 
n,  they  are 
n  existence, 
hich  exists, 
rgues  noth- 
know  to  our 
»e  and  send- 
long   since 
thy  coldier- 
1,"  he  cried 

her  hands, 
me  a  shorter 


•'  What  do  you  want  it  tor,  darling  }" 
"To  study ;  I  want  to  learn  it  all  by  heart !  " 
"And  die  young  .>"  put  in  Ray  sepulchrally. 
"  I  knew  you  were  approaching  the  goal  when 
you  inquired  if  we  were  busy.  Look  out,  Prin- 
cess ;  if  you  cheat  Herbert  and  I  out  of  another 
hour  of  study  you  will  have  to  seek  a  solitary 
tomb.  We  shall  not  be  good  enough  to  accom- 
pany you  thither." 

"  Nobody  ever  thought  you'd  die  young.    Her- 
vie,  will  it  hurt  me  to  study  the  cat'kism  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  ask  papa.  I  should  think  it 
might  be  strong  meat  for  babes,"  was  the  reply. 
"  O,  no  !  it  is  milk.  I  was  of  very  tender  age 
when  Aunt  Sally  applied  it  to  me  at  Valley  Farm. 
But  my  stomach  was  weak;  it  soured,  and  I 
threw  it  up  as  fast  as  I  took  it,  so  she  concluded 
it  was  not  suited  to  my  constitution,"  said  Ray. 
"  My  Miss  ]'s  studied  it,  and  I  guess  they're 
good  enough,"  cried  the  little  girl.  "  Tt  didn't 
sour  Miss  Je  and  Miss  Jo  isn't. sour,  :  xie's  only 
stifled." 


'f 


t 


82        HARDLY   GOOD   EN^>UGH   TO   DIE   YOUNG. 

"  Stifled  !  "  echoed  Ray.  "  What  stifled  her, 
Princess  ?" 

"Violets,"  was  the  sententious  reply,  and  no 
entreaties  availed  to  make  her  explain  further. 

"I'll  just  '^o  see  papa,"  she  said.  "He  likes 
me  to  comfort  folks,  I  know  ;  and  p'raps  he'll  get 
ne  a  cat'kism  when  I  tell  him  about  Miss  Jo." 

"  That's  right,"  seconded  Herbert.  "  It  is 
likely  papa  has  the  book  in  his  study;  he  has 
most  everything."  And  Ray  broke  in  coax- 
ingly,  "  Tell  me  about  Miss  Jo,  Olive ;  that's 
a  darling.  If  there's  any  comfort  on  foot  I'd 
like  to  be  in  it  ;  and  as  to  the  catechism,  I  can 
recite  two  or  three  pages  without  a  break." 

Oliv.;  turned  on  him  admiring  eyes.  "Then 
you'd  suit  Miss  Jo.  I'll  tell  her  next  time  I 
go  there,  and  she'll  never  call  you  a  nuisance 
again.  But  —  well,  I'll  think  of  it,  and  p'raps 
I'll  let  you  comfort  her  a  little,"  which  was 
the  very  best  the  young  lady  would  promise 
then. 


at  stifled  her, 


reply,  and  no 
lain  further, 
d.     "  He  likes 
^'raps  he'll  get 
lit  Miss  Jo." 
■bert.     "It   is 
study;  he  has 
roke   in   coax- 
Olive  ;   that's 
■t  on  foot  I'd 
techism,  I  can 
a  break." 
eyes.     "  Then 

next  time  I 
)u  a  nuisance 
it,  and  p'raps 
"  which  was 
ould  promise 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MISS  olive's  request. 

To  sum  up  all,  be  merry,  I  advise; 

And  as  we're  merry,  may  we  still  be  wise. 

Robert  Burns. 

pAPA  GARDENELL  sat  in  his  study  quite 
busy  with  his  papers,  yet  when  his  little 
daughter  put  her  shining  head  through  the  door, 
asking  demurely,  — 

"Can  the  busiest  and  bestest  man  in  New 
York  spare  half  a  minute  to  a  poor  little  beggar 
girl .?  "  he  answered  joyfully,  "  Not  only  a  half- 
minute,  but  a  half-hour  if  it  will  satisfy  or  com- 
fort the  weeniest  corner  of  her  precious  heart." 
Then  there  was  a  merry  scamper  across  the 
floor,  and  presently  the  little  beggar  had  her 
shining  head  on  a  broad  shoulder, 

"  Papa,  have  you  a  shorter  cat'kism  ? " 
83 


> 


t  ,* 


84 


MISS  olive's  request. 


Papa  was  astonishe '.     "What  can   m-  little 
beggar-girl  want  ui  a  shorter  catechism  ? " 
'Oh  !  for  comfort,  papa." 
"  Comfort  r  "  question  ingly. 
"Yes,  you  darhn^o:,   comfort.     Let   me  kiss 
that   puzzle-wrinkle  out  of  your  forehead  'fore 
you  grow  old.     Mrs.  Walker  says  it  makes  peo- 
ple  old   to   wrinkle.     Mamma   never  wrinkles; 
she  only  opens  her  eyes  when  she  doesn't  under- 
stand.    That  keeps  her  from  growing  old,  and 
makes  her  quite  lovely.     When  her  eyes  open 
so,  I  love  her  to  death.    Now,  that  will  do.    Yes, 
papa,  I  want  to  comfort  poor  Miss  Jo,  she  has 
such  an  ache,  and  violets  stifle  her." 

Very  lucid.  Papa  tried  to  keep  the  puzzle- 
wrinkle  out  of  his  forehead,  and  opened  his  eyes 
instead,  for  which  he  was  repaid  with  a  dainty 
kiss  on  the  tip  of  his  nose. 

"You  see,  I  didn't  know  and  I  offered  her  vio- 
lets, and  she  looked ~ looked  like  Fate;  like  a 
judge;  and  I  kissed  the  tip  of  her  nose  for 
Robert,  and  she  cried."  — Here  Miss  Olive's  lis- 


CST. 

t  can   m-  little 
schism  ? " 


Let   me  kiss 
forehead  'fore 
it  makes  peo- 
evor  wrinkles; 
doesn't  under- 
awing  old,  and 
her  eyes  open 
:  will  do.    Yes, 
ss  Jo,  she  has 

'P  the  piizzle- 
l^ened  his  eyes 
with  a  dainty 

ffered  hervio- 

■  Fate ;  like  a 

her  nose  for 

iss  Olive's  lis- 


MISS   OLIVES   KF.QUEST. 


85 


tener  came  near  laughing,  but  restrained  him- 
self. —  "So  I  want  a  cat'kism." 

"  I  understand  ;  you  hope  the  gift  of  that  will 
comfort  Miss  Ralison  ?  What  nade  you  think 
of  such  medicine,  my  dear?  I  itxi  my  copy  is 
too  old  to  be  presentable." 

"  But,  you  see,  I  don't  want  to  give  it  to  her ; 
I  want  it  for  myself." 

*'  No,  I  didn't  see,  and  now  I  fear  my  sight  is 
slightly  blurred.  You  wish  to  comfort  Miss 
Johanna  by  presenting  yourself  with  a  cate- 
chism ? " 

"  You  are  the  smartest  papa  !  That's  just  it ; 
and  I  know  it  will  please  her  better  than  any- 
thing I  can  do." 

The  "smartest"  papa,  afraid  of  losing  Lis 
reputation,  opened  his  eyes  wide  a^^ain,  but 
wisely  kept  his  mouth  shut. 

"  You  don't  understand  >  Oh  !  what  a  funny 
man.  Now,  listen  !  I  really  did  pray  about  it, 
and  I  know  it's  just  the  thing.  Papa,  if  you 
knew  a  little  girl  who  got  cross  when  you  called 


t 


'$ 
.'.( 


■V. 


,y 


•V 


f 


II 


86 


MISS    OLIVE  S   REQUEST. 


her  'Tommy'  and  called  you  back   Mr.  Vinc- 
gar    — 

"Tit  for  tat,"  interjected  papa. 

—  "And  who  shook  her  fist  at  you  when  you 
tried  to  keep  her  from  fighting,  and  called  you 

old  J ,  no,  old  G ;  'cause  you're  not  Miss 

Jo ;  and  who  said  you  mustn't  have  any  nice  pic 
or  tarts,  and  stifled  you  with  violets "  — Here 
papa's  form  shivered  a  little  with  repressed  mer- 
riment, though  his  face  looked  preternaturally 
solemn  —  "  And  then  repented  and  'fessec'.  but 
couldn't  get  any  better,  and  you  had  to  keep 
forgiving  her,  why.  p'raps  you'd  like  her  to 
study  the  cat'kisin  if  you  knew  it  would  make 
her  good." 

"P'raps  I  would,"  assented  papa  with  great 
gravity. 

"Of  course  you  would,"  responded  his 
daughter,  kissing  him. 

"And  the  comfort,"  suggested  papa;  "I  sup- 
pose the  comfort  would  be  iu  having  such  a  bad 
child  reform  ? " 


MISS  olive's  request. 


87 


L-k   Mr.  Vino- 


'ou  when  you 

id  called  you 

)u're  not  Miss 

:  any  nice  pie 

lets"  — Here 

:pres.scd  mer- 

'eternaturally 

i  'fesscc'.  but 

had  to  keep 

like   her  to 

would  make 

a  with  great 

spondcd     his 

ipa  ;  "  I  sup- 
g  such  a  bad 


"Yes,  'course.  You  sec,  if  your  brother 
Robert  died  and  gave  all  his  violets  to  Miss 
Jennie  —  no,  to  mamma,  I  mean  —  and  you  didn't 
have  anybody  else  but  him  and  her  in  the  world, 
and  he  never  came  back,  but  was  brought  back 
dead,  and  you  covered  him  with  violets,  and 
planted  them  on  his  grave,  and  they  always 
stifled  you,  and  somebody  gave  you  two,  and 
didn't  know  'bout  it,  and  stifled  you  again,  they'd 
be  sorry,  papa." 

"Yes,"  assented  papa. 

"Well,  that's  mc,  papa,"  in  a  very  doleful 
voice.  "And  you  see  if  I  could  comfort  her 
now  I'd  be  glad.  And  she  says  lots  of  times 
girls  were  better  in  her  day  'cause  they  studied 
the  shorter  cat'kism  and  learned  their  duty  to 
God  and  man.  And  if  I  could  s'prise  her  by 
saying  it  right  off  like  she  did  when  she  was 
little,  I  think  it'd  be  the  best  thing  she'd  like, 
and  she'd  know  I  was  trying  to  be  good.  Papa, 
is  it  '  strong  meat  for  babes '  and  '  too  much  for 
a  weak  stomach  '  ?  " 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


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Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiquas 


88 


MISS    OLIVK  S    REQUEST. 


1 


Then  papa  had  a  chance  to  laugh  and  relieve 
himself.  He  carried  her  to  the  bookcase  and 
held  her  up  while  she  took  the  pamphlet  from  a 
top  shelf.  "  I  think  you  may  study  it  without 
danger,"  he  said,  still  smiling.  "  It  is  a  wonder- 
ful strengthencr  of  the  spinal  column,  and  my 
girlie  can  tell  brother  Ray  that  papa  will  not 
object  to  his  taking  small  doses  of  it  daily,  in 
the  study,  with  you." 

Neither  father  nor  mother  expected  Olive 
would  adhere  long  to  her  purpose  of  committing 
the  catechism  to  memory,  and  they  were  aston- 
ished as  day  after  day  she  took  her  prescribed 
lesson  without  a  demur.  In  this  they  saw  fresh 
proof  of  the  strerigth  of  her  affections.  It  was 
a  happy  day  to  the  child  when  her  dancing  feet 
carried  her  to  the  "Yellow  Nest,"  as  she  called 
the  abode  of  her  maiden  friends,  catechism 
in  hantl,  hair  flying  and  eyes  radiant  with 
delight. 

Miss  Jennie  met  her  in  the  kitchen  with  a 
kiss,  and  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  Miss  Jo  in  the 


sittm 

the  c 

"( 

"I'v 

must 

want 

(ii 

node 

turn 

dust 

it 

say 

^ 

had 

WOl 

sue 

( 

wo 

"  S 

f 

in 

it 

i 

1 


MISS  olive's  request. 


89 


'clieve 
e  and 
rom  a 
ithout 
onder- 
ul  my 
11  not 
ily,  in 

Olive 
lifting 
aston- 
cribcd 
(•  fresh 
It  was 
g  feet 

called 

;chism 

with 

with  a 
in  the 


sitting-room  beyond,  dusting  the  ornaments  on 
the  corner  bracket. 

"Oh!  dear  Miss  Jo,"  she  cried,  dashing  in, 
"Ive  learned  it!  I've  learned  it!  And  you 
must  be  so  glad,  'cause  now  you  know  truly  I 

want  to  be  good." 

"What  has  Miss  Rattlebrain  got  in  her  little 
noddle  now  ? "  asked  the  spinster,  not  unkindly, 
turning  a  moment  to  her  before  she  finished  her 

dusting. 

"The  cafkism,"  replied   the   child.     "I   can 

sav  all  the  pages." 

I^Iiss  Jo  gave  a  half-grunt.  "In  my  day  we 
had  to  repeat  it  without  the  turn  or  loss  of  a 
word,"  sighing.  "They  don't  teach  children 
such  things  these  times." 

"  Oh  !  but  I  can  say  it  and  not  miss  a  single 
word."  passing  the  book  into  the  lady's  hand. 
"  Shall  I  make  believe  I'm  Tommy  and  go  stand 
in  a  corner  with  my  hands  behind  me,  and  recite 

it?" 

Miss  Jo  smiled  grimly. 


go 


MISS   OLIVE  S    REQUEST. 


"You  can  stand  where  you  like,  I  needn't 
stop  my  work  ;  I  know  every  word  of  it  by 
heart.  There,  begin:  'What  is  the  chief  end 
of  man  > '  " 

There  was  a  queer  ghnt  in  the  gray  eyes  as 
the  child  answered  the  last  question. 

"And  you  did  that  to  please  me,  Diamond  >" 
she  said  almost  tenderly. 

"  Yes  ;  does  it  comfort  you,  Miss  Jo  .'  "  asked 
the  child  naively. 

"  It  makes  me  hope  for  you.  You're  a  real 
Gardcncll  child.     Jennie,  get  Tommy  a  cookie." 

A  cookie !  Olive  received  the  great,  funny- 
shaped  gingerbread  horse,  with  a  stubby  tail 
and  one  staring  eye,  with  joy.  It  was  made  for 
her  —  made  before  she  came.  She  danced  all 
the  way  home. 


It  WOi 

a  good  ■ 

G 

to  en 

boy  A 

comp 

"1 

tard) 

"] 

The 

dren 


stud 


CIlArTER  VIII. 

A   STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 

It  would  be  argument  for  a  week,  laushtor  for  a  month,  and 
a  good  jest  forever.  King  1Ii:nry  iv. 

GOOD-MORNING,  you  dear  people  all!" 
A  cyclone  of  sunshine  and  cheer  seemed 
to  enter  the  breakfast-room  with  the  handsome 
boy  who  smiled  and   bowed   at   the   assembled 

company. 

"  Papa,  I  beg  your  pardon  !     I  am  sorry  to  be 

tardy." 

«I  am  sorry,  too,"  said  Mr.  Gardenell  gravely. 
The  one  thing  he  would  not  tolerate  in  his  chil- 
dren was  dilatoriness. 

"  I   was  up  early  enough,  but   sat   down   to 

study  before  completing  my  toilet,  in  hopes  to 

.ke  up  for  last  night's  fun.     It  is  six  months 

T  transgressed  before;  I  trust  you  won't 

91 


92 


A    STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 


be  hard  on  a"  —  "fellow,"  Ray  came  near  say- 
ing, for  he  was  the  culprit,  but  instead  wound 
up  with  the  words  of  an  old  Scotch  woman 
whose  darling  he  was  in  babyhood :  "  A  wee, 
weak  laddie." 

"Wee,  weak  laddie."  Ray  was  the  very  oppo- 
site of  that  now,  as  papa,  looked  up  into  his 
brilliant  face  with  its  comical  mixture  of  fun 
and  penitence.  How  full  he  was  of  rich  exu- 
berant life!  Herbert  Gardenell  was  proud  of 
his  children,  and  who  could  find  fault  with  one 
so  ready  to  confess  his  shortcomings  > 

"You  are  excused  this  morning,  but  don't 
repeat  the  experiment,"  said  the  gentleman,  with 
something  like  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  It  is  not 
often  we  have  delinquents  in  this  direction ; 
strange  that  we  should  be  favored  with  two  this 
morning." 

Ray  cast  a  hasty  glance  over  the  company. 
To  be  sure  ;  where  was  Olive  }     She  was  neve 
late.     "  May  I  see  what  detains  Princess  h 
I  sit  down  ? "  he  asked,  turning  to  his  f-^ 


do 

sei 

sis 
ch 

wi 
ti; 

U! 

tl 
\\ 


A   STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 


93 


near  say- 
id  wound 
h  woman 
"  A  wee, 

cry  oppo- 
into  his 
e  of  fun 
rich  cxu- 
proud  of 
with  one 

lut  don't 
nan,  with 

It  is  not 
irection  ; 

two  this 

:ompany. 
as  neve 
is  h- 


.<I  think  you   may.     I   forbade  Mary  Ann's 
doing  so.     You  are  too  old  now  to  trouble  the 

servants." 

Ray  bounded  over  the  stairs  and  into  his 
sister's  room  without  ceremony.  She,  poor 
child,  had  forgotten  everything  as  she  wrestled 
with  the  poetic  muse,  bound  to  obtain  substan- 
tial comfort  for  Miss  Jo.  Hair  uncombed,  face 
unwashed,  she  sat,  pencil  in  hand,  elbows  on 
the  table,  paper  spread  out  before  her,  despair 
written  on  every  lineament  of  her  face. 

.'  Late  for  breakfast,  and  in  disgrace!  Papa 
has  sent  me  for  you.  For  shame !  when  it  is 
the  only  thing  over  which  he's  very  particular," 
shouted  Ray,  then  stopped  suddenly  as  his  eye 
took  in  the  picture. 

..  My  !  if  it  isn't  streaks."  The  door  flew  to, 
and  the  boy  descended  the  stairs  again,  two  at 
a  time,  stopping  to  take  breath  before  entering 
the  dining-room. 

«'  Streaks  !  "  he  cried  dramatically.     "  A  clear 
and  beautifully  developed  case  of   the  streaks. 


94 


A    STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 


The  ecstatic  Muse  has  evidently  descended,  and, 
to  judge  from  the  Princess'  appearance,  has 
pulled  her  hair,  slapped  her  face  and  taken 
every  other  liberty  with  her  imaginable.  A 
most  decided  case  of  poetry  struck  or  stuck  in. 
Only  one  thing  can  save  the  patient  now,  to 
bring  it  out.  Mamma,  don't  you  think  you  can 
help  her  ?     I  fear  the  result." 

"  O,  Ray  !  "  deplored  mamma,  putting  her 
hands  to  her  cars. 

"  You  had  better  calm  yourself  and  eat  your 
breakfast,  my  son,  or  the  result  may  be  far  from 
satisfactory  in  your  own  case,"  said  papa,  and 
Herbert  begged  to  go  to  his  sister. 

"  No  ;  you  can  remain  where  you  are,  and  our 
foolish  little  girl  must  take  the  consequences  of 
her  folly.  If  the  law  of  compensation  holds 
good,  she  will  not  much  mind  cold  beefsteak 
and  mufifins." 

As  the  party  were  about  to  adjourn  to  the 
back  parlor  for  prayers,  a  doleful  little  face 
surmounted  by  a  halo  of  combed,  but  uncurled 


hair, 
had  1 
was  1: 

"I 
rhym 
child, 
his  s 
have 

"  £ 
simul 
it  wil 
stanc 

"^ 

may 
"I 
!!( 
siste 
hisf; 
glan( 
with 
and 
finge 


A    STARTLING   DEVELOPMENT. 


95 


:d,  and, 
:e,  has 
taken 
Ic.  A 
uck  in. 
ow,  to 
ou  can 

ig   her 

t  your 
r  from 
a,  and 

nd  our 

ices  of 

holds 

:fsteak 

to  the 
i  face 
curled 


hair,  thrust  itself  through  the  door.  The  toilet 
had  been  hastily  executed,  and  when  the  face 
was  lifted  to  papa's  for  a  kiss,  he  shook  his  head. 

"  I've  lost  a  warm  breakfast  and  not  found  my 
rhyme,  and  now  papa  won't  kiss  me,"  cried  the 
child.  "  O,  Herbert !  "  catching  a  glimpse  of 
his  sympathetic  face,  "  you  are  all  the  friend  I 
have  in  the  world." 

"  Streaky  yet,"  commented  Ray,  with  a  well- 
simulated  look  of  commiseration.  "  I'm  afraid 
it  will  strike  in,"  with  solicitude.  "Olive,  I  will 
stand  by  you  to  the  end." 

"  You  needn't,"  snapped  the  child.  "  Papa, 
may  I  have  my  breakfast  ?  " 

"  Not  now,  my  daughter  ;  papa  cannot  wait." 

Herbert  found  the  chapter  and  verse  for  his 
sister,  and  seated  her  next  to  himself.  Ray,  at 
his  father's  right,  and  a  little  in  the  background, 
glanced  at  her  occasionally,  out  of  owlish  eyes, 
with  a  preternaturally  grave  expression,  now 
and  then  stroking  his  face  with  his  spread 
lingers,  to  denote  that  she  still  looked  streaky. 


96 


A   STARTLINO    DEVKLOI'MENT. 


It  was  exasperating  in  the  extreme.  If  Her- 
bert had  not  Ijccn  beside  her  with  a  loving  touci 
now  and  then,  she  was  sure  she  would  have 
done  something  dreadful.  She  was  glad  when 
the  hymn  was  selected  and  she  was  summoned 
to  her  mamma's  side  at  the  piano.  Even  then 
she  clung  to  Herbert,  and,  with  her  back  to  Ray, 
quite  lost  his  look  of  genuine  admiration  as  she 
sang.  He  was  proud  of  his  sister,  especially  of 
her  singing,  it  was  so  like  mamma's,  and  made 
him  long  to  be  good.  He  had  need  of  some- 
thing to  make  him  good  this  morning.  Mamma, 
and  papa,  and  Herbert  each  prayed,  and  he  got 
very  uneasy,  and  turning  in  hopes  to  catch  his 
sister's  eye,  he  saw  she  had  her  arms  tightly 
twined  about  his  brother's  neck. 

"  '  Sympathies  are  healing,'  "  quoted  Raymond 
a  few  minutes  later,  when,  sauntering  into  the 
dining-room,  he  found  Olive  eating  her  cold 
breakfast.  "  '  Sympathies  are  healing,  and  in 
Hie  worst  is  ample  hope,  if  only  thou  hiist 
charity  and  faith.'     What,  streaky  yet,  poor  lit- 


tle 

anc 

unl 
it  \ 
an< 
roi 

do' 
yo' 
str 
to 
CI 
ou 
an 
m: 
he 
de 

flc 
be 


A   STARTLING    DKVELOI'MF.NT. 


97 


If  Ilcr- 
ing  touc.t 
)uld  have 
;lacl  when 
iimmoncd 
Ivcn  then 
k  to  Ray, 
on  as  she 
ecially  of 
ind  made 
of  some- 
Mamma, 
id  he  got 
catch  his 
IS   tightly 

Raymond 
;  into  the 
her  cold 
T,  and  in 
;hou  hist 
,  poor  lit- 


tle Ol !    What  were  you  writing  ?    Tell  brother, 

and  perhaps  he  can  help  you  out." 

"  Vou  don't  help,"  said  the  child.     "  You  just 

unhelped  my  best  line,  banging  my  door  when 

it  was  just  ready  to  come  —  the  beautiful  little 

angel  thought.     You  scared  it  with  your  great 

rough  ways,  and  it  flew  away  " — 

"On  the  wings  uf  the  wind,  like  a  wounded 

dove,"  interjected  Ray  dramatically.  "My! 
you've  got  it  bad  this  time,  01.  You  look 
streaky  ;  anybody'd  know  you  were  a  poet,  just 
to  sec  your  melancholy  eyes  and  sensitive  mouth. 
Cheer  up.  Sis;  'There's  a  divinity  thrt  shapes 
our  ends,  rough  hew  them  though  we  may,' 
and  you  are  tending  fast  towards  poesy,  and 
may  be  sure  some  day  the  Muse  will  take  up 
her  abode  within  your  breast  and  never  more 
depart." 

Ray  looked  so  serious,  in  spite  of  his  high- 
flown  language,  that  Olive  half-believed  him  to 
be  in  earnest. 

"  Ray,  do  be  good  for  once,"  she  said,  "  and 


98 


A   STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 


tell  me  if  you  rc;illy,  truly  think  I  will  ever  be  a 
great  writer  ?  "  . 

"  Undoubtedly,"  answered  her  brother,  with  a 
sober  face.  "  I  am  .something  of  a  poet  myself, 
and  can  tell,  Come,  Princess,  do  let  mc  e.xamine 
your  verses ;  perhaps  I  can  give  you  the  missing 
links." 

"  P'raps  ;  if  you  promise  never,  never,  never  to 
tell." 

"  Never,  never,  never,"  repeated  Ray.  "  May 
I  be  thumped  if  I  do,  or  drowned  in  a  wash- 
basin." 

•'  Now  you're  funning." 

"  I  was  never  fa'"thcr  from  it,  Princess." 

"  Ray,  if  papa  would  let  you  take  the  horse, 
and  you'd  drive  me  to  the  old  graveyard  to  see 
the  grave  covered  with  violets,  I  think  I  could 
do  better." 

"To  be  sure,"  assented  her  brother,  begin- 
ning to  get  a  rational  conception  of  the  present 
poetic  visitation.  "  I  see;  it  is  Robert  you  are 
bewailing." 


fort 

cpith 

ingo 


How 
It 

emp 
If 

I've 

p'ra 
II 

con 
ver 
his 

kn( 
rh) 
ow 


A   STXRTLING    DEVELOPMKNT. 


99 


1  ever  be  a 

\cv,  with  a 
et  myself, 
le  examine 


r,  never  to 

y.     "  May 
n  a  wash- 


ss," 

the  horse, 
arcl  to  see 
k  I  could 

cr,  bcgin- 
le  present 
rt  you  are 


«<  Yes  ;  it  is  Robert.  It  will  be  -"ch  a  com- 
fort to  Miss  Jo  if  I  c  only  write  him  an 
epithet.  I  think  these  lines  -  they  arc  the  end- 
ing ones,  Ray  —  are  beautiful :  — 

"  And  violets  blue 
We'll  strew,  we'll  strew 
Forever  above  his  Just. 

How  docs  that  sound  ?  " 

"  Sound  !  why,  that's  poetry,"  cried  Ray,  with 
emphasi.s.    "  Go  on,  Princess  !  " 

"I  can't.  You  see  the  middle's  left  out. 
I've  got  the  first  verse  and  last,  but  —  O,  dear  ! 
p'raps  you  can  help  me  just  the  tiniest  bit." 

"All  right;  I'll  try,  though  I  could  never 
come  up  to  you,  Princess.  We'll  ride  out  this 
very  evening  and  see  '  The  violets  blue,  above 

his  dust.' " 

What  Ray  did  for  the  epitaph  will  never  be 
known.  So  artfully  did  he  suggest  words  and 
rhymes  that  Olive  herself  believed  them  her 
own   production.     She   dedicated   the  poem  to 


100 


A    STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 


her  dear  Miss  Jo,  with  many  thanks  for  the 
"  darling  gingerbread  horse  with  one  eye,  and 
a  stubby  tail,"  with  hopes  that  its  "feeble 
utterances"  —  Ray's  suggestion  —  might  com- 
fort her  stricken  heart,  and  make  up  for  the 
time  she  stifled  her  with  violets.  It  was  signed 
"Tommy,"  and  decorated  with  a  pencil  drawing 
of  the  violet-covered  grave  beneath  a  weeping 
willow. 

There  was  a  postscript  added,  saying  the 
flowers  were  meant  for  violets,  though  she 
couldn't    draw   them    very   well. 

Olive  was  delighted  with  her  work  when  done, 
and  exhibited  it  to  Ray  with  no  small  pride. 
His  evident  admiration  and  desire  for  a  copy 
flattered  the  child  into  a  second  edition,  which 
was  safely  concealed  in  Ray's  pocket.  As  re- 
ward for  this  kindness  he  sealed  and  directed 
the  envelope,  and  left  it  under  Miss  Ralison's 
door;  to  reward  himself  he  stepped  to  the 
window  and  peeped  under  the  curtain  to  note 
its  reception. 


Wei 

every  ' 

in  dec 

tion,  1: 

when 

"Bl 

sudde 

was  r 

T\v 

just 

He   A 

revea 

was  c 

"1 

gent^ 

Tom 

assu 

tear: 

Jem 

A 

agai 

it  d 


A  STARTLING  DEVELOPMENT. 


lOI 


:s  for  the 
;  eye,  and 
s  "  feeble 
ight  com- 
ip  for  the 
va.s  signed 
il  drawing 
a  weeping 

aying  the 
ough    she 

.'hen  done, 
lall  pride, 
or  a  copy 
ion,  which 
t.  As  re- 
1  directed 
Ralison's 
;d  to  the 
1  to    note 


Well,  it  was  funny.  The  boy  outside  enjoyed 
every  bit  of  it.  Miss  Jo's  amazement,  her  labor 
in  deciphering  it,  her  amusement  at  its  dedica- 
tion, her  oscillation  between  laughter  and  tears 
when  she  read  it  aloud  to  Miss  Jennie. 

"  Bless  that  dear  child  !  "  said  Jennie,  and  then 
suddenly  down  went  Miss  Jo's  head,  and  she 
was  really  crying. 

There  was  a  soft  whistle  under  the  window 
just  then  ;  Ray  was  unprepared  for  showers. 
He  would  have  run,  only  flight  would  have 
revealed  his  position,  and  in  creeping  off  he 
was  arrested  by  the  elder  woman's  voice. 

"Tommy,  Tommy,"  she  was  saying,  as  if 
gently  calling  some  petted  cat,  "dear  little 
Tommy."  Then,  in  a  sprightlier  tone,  to  re- 
assure her  sister,  distracted  at  the  sight  of  her 
tears,  "  We  must  make  Diamond  another  horse, 

Jennie." 

Another  horse  was  waiting  when  Olive  called 
again,  and  it  was  carried  to  the  nursery,  where 
it  delighted  Eddie  for  a  good  part  of  one  day, 


102 


A  STARTLING  DEVELOPMENT. 


until  Ray  coming  in  bit  off  its  tail  to  sec  if  it 
was  made  of  sawdust  as  he  asserted,  when  the 
onc-cyed  wonder  lost  all  its  desirableness. 

Ray  was  very  uncomfortable  with  that  epitaph 
in  his  pocket  ;  it  gave  him  untold-of  agony.  He 
longed  to  share  it  with  some  one.  But  he  had 
promised  not  to  tell,  so  he  could  not  speak  of  it  ; 
but  after  resisting  temptation  for  a  week  he 
finally  slyed  it  into  the  Bible  on  his  father's 
study-table,  and  immediately  felt  better. 

Papa  Gardcnell  came  home  that  afternoon, 
weary  and  dispirited.  Trouble  between  two  of 
his  church  members  weighed  on  his  heart.  He 
walked  the  floor,  prayed,  then  reaching  out  his 
hand  for  his  constant  source  of  help  and  com- 
fort, opened  it  to  Olive's  "  epithet."  The  hand- 
writing, the  inscription  to  Miss  Jo,  betrayed 
"Tommy,"  and,  smiling,  he  sought  his  wife. 

"  Oil  for  the  squeaks,"  he  laughed  as  he  i^u'. 
it  in  her  hand.  "  I  expect  this  is  the  outcome 
of  that  neglected  breakfast.  Read  it  aloud,  my 
dear.     Really,  what  a  child  ! " 


Mrs. 


Here  lie: 
He  was 

Most 
Hut  wilt 
He  wen 

And 

O,  Rob 

I 
The  vi 

And 
'Cause 
Ami  V 

For 

After 

Ami  , 

'Ca 

And 

And 

Ai 

O  lo 

Rob 

Y 

But 
•Ca 


STARTLING   DEVELOPMENT. 


103 


■)  sec  if  it 

when  the 

;ss. 

at  epitaph 

^ony.     He 

.it  he  had 

leak  of  it  ; 

week  he 
s  father's 
r. 

afternoon, 
en  two  of 
cart.  He 
ig  out  his 

and  com- 
The  hand- 
,  betrayed 
;  wife. 

as  he  £^u^ 
ic  outcome 

aloud,  my 


Mrs.  Gardenell  read  the  following  :  - 

El'ITllET  TO   ROUURT. 

Here  lies  a  darling  as  ever  couUl  be, 
He  was  all  the  world  to  Jo  and  some  to  Je. 
;;::;  the  best  brother  (llervie  is  nicest)  ever  seen. 

,..  .hen  the  violets  were  so  lK,ght^^^^.^ 
He  went  and  faded- no,  wa.  killed 

And  all  the  world  looked  green. 

O,  Rob.,.  d„.i.,..  ...c,  »«"«.'«"»'"='•-""'" '""""""' 

feet 
The  violets  you  loved  so  pretty  and  sweet, 

And  thcv  cried  and  cried -cause  they  must - 

•cause  their  poor,  dear  hearts  broke  right  m  two. 

And  violets  blue  we'll  strew,  we'll  strew 
Forever  above  your  dust. 

After  Je  cried  she  went  and  forgot 
And  Jo  didn't  'cause  she  c  .uld  not. 
'Cause  she  is  'zactly  like  me, 

And  I  never  could  my  Hervip  forget. 

And  Miss  Jo  violets  always  stifle,  they  st.fle  her  yet. 

And  I'm  as  glad  as  I  can  be. 

O  loved  of  the  heart  and  dear  to  the  soul, 

Robert,  who  can  thy  mourners  console  ? 

You  were  always  as  sweet  as  sugar, 

And  I  know  you  are  good  and  gooder. 


104 


A    STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 


There  was  much  conjccturo  as  to  how  this 
effusion  found  its  way  into  Mr.  GardencH's 
Bible.  Perhaps  Olive  wished,  in  tliis  way,  to 
bring-  it  to  her  fallier's  notice  ;  but  that  was 
not  Hl<e  her :  far  more  probable  Ray  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  affair.  Very  carefully  papa 
probed  his  little  daughter  that  evening  as  she 
sat  on  his  knee. 

"Was  my  girlie  in  papa's  study  this  after- 
noon ?  " 

"Not  all  day  ;  I've  had  company,  and  been  so 
busy." 

"And  hasn't  my  birdie  anything  to  tell  her 
papa .''" 

Olive  turned  her  head  on  one  side,  like  a  wise 
little  robin.  "  Not  a  thing,  if  you  please,"  she 
said  brightly,  "  I  have  a  secret,  papa,  but  it's 
good,  and  about  comforting  folks,  and  I  know 
you  won't  care,  so  I'd  rather  not  tell  if  you 
won't  feel  bad,"  running  her  fingers  through 
his  hair. 

"Poor  papa,"  said  Mr.  Gardenell,  commisera- 


A    STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 


105 


how  this 
ardencll's 
s  way,  to 
that  was 
y  was  at 
'ully  papa 
ig  as  she 

bis   after- 

J  been  so 

)  tell   her 

kc  a  wise 

;ase,"  she 
I,  but  it's 

I  I  know 

II  if   you 
through 

immiscra- 


ting  himself.     "Who  ever  had  a  girlie   before 
who  kept  secrets  from  her  onty  donty  papa  ? " 

"  Oh  !  I'll  tell  you  if  you  feel  very  bad.  But 
_ra —  rather  — not,"  slowly,  "'cause  you'll 
laugh,  and  you  ought  to  trust  your  daughter." 

"I  wouldn't  know  for  the  world  now,"  cried 
papa  ;  then,  putting  his  hands  to  his  ears,  "please 
don't  tell  me;  I  love  so  to  trust  my  little 
daughter."  So  they  had  their  frolic,  and  the 
epitaph  was  locked  up,  and  never  a  word  said. 

Papa  and  mamma  exclianged  significant 
glances  when  Ray  picked  up  his  father's  Bible 
carelessly,  and  ran  its  pages  through  his  fingers. 
Something  had  miscarried,  and  Ray  was  discon- 
solate. 

He  was  glad  he  knew  it  by  heart,  and  found 
relief  that  night  by  reciting  it,  dedication  and 
all,  to  Herbert,  having  first  put  his  hair  in  a 
frenzy,  pulled  down  his  face  to  a  melancholy 
length,  removed  his  vest,  unbuttoned  his  coat, 
sent  his  collar  to  a  corner  of  the  room,  and 
rumpled    his   shirt   besom.     Then,    striking   an 


io6 


A   STARTLING    DEVELOPMENT. 


attitude  and  a  tone,  he  took  his  "revenge  on 
Fate."  His  audience,  seated  on  the  bed-foot, 
laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  face,  and 
encored  until  it  was  repeated,  and  ended  by 
saying,  "We  must  never  let  dear  little  Olive 
know,  but  really,  Ray,  you  arc  the  smartest 
fellow  I  ever  saw." 


X     SI 

was  w 

called 

Misse 

out  it 

in  thi 

exten 

to  th( 

"1 

a  ncA 


r. 


ic  bed-foot, 
s  face,  and 
ended  by 
little  Olive 
ic   smartest 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A   LITTLE   ADVOCATE. 

Then  nature  said:  "A  lovelier  flower 
On  earth  was  never  sown  ; 

She  shall  be  mine,  and  I  will  make 

A  lady  of  n>y  own."  woRDSWORTH. 

-rT  did  seem  shameful  for  school  to  keep  in 
i  such  bright  spring  weather,  when  Nature 
was  wooing  its  children  into  the  light.  Ray 
called  it  "mean,"  and  Olive  "horrid,"  but  the 

Misses  Ralison  brightened  when  the  bell  rang 
out  its  familiar  summons,  and  Jennie,  who  was 
in  the  chamber,  opened  her  window  to  its  full 
extent,  and  waved  her  handkerchief  in  greeting 
to  the  merry  groups  gathering  fast. 

"Look  at  that  old  witch !  is  she  crazy?"  asked 

a  new-comer.  ^ 

"She  isn't  a  witch,  and  she  isn't  crazy,    said 

107 


io8 


A    LITTLE    ADVOCATE. 


Ray  Ganlcncll  emphatically.  "  If  you  want  to 
hold  your  own  in  111  is  school,  be  careful  how  you 
speak  of  our  clear  Miss  Dr.  J,"  lifting  his  hat 
and  waving  back  to  the  window.  Every  boy  in 
the  crowd  followed  Ray's  example  in  this  as  in 
most  matters,  and  Miss  Jennie  responded  to  the 
compliment  with  a  "  Welcome  back  to  school, 
my  dears !  the  sight  of  your  faces  does  me  good." 

"Three  cheers  for  Miss  Ralison,"  shouted 
Ray,  and  they  were  given  lustily,  while  the  girls 
waved  their  handkerchiefs. 

Olive  looked  with  unfeigned  admiration  at  her 
handsome  brother  as  he  stood  with  shining  face 
and  bare  head  among  his  fellows.  "  You  arc  a 
darling,"  she  whispered,  pressing  close  to  him 
as  the  bell  sounded,  "  I  am  proud  of  you,  and 
you  are  very  handsome  when  you're  good." 

"Just  so,"  he  replied;  "glad  you  begin  to 
appreciate  my  virtues.  You  don't  look  bad 
yourself  when  you're  jolly." 

What  good  did  it  do  to  compliment  Ray .' 
Herbert  would   have  kissed  her  for  that  warm 


little   spi 

ready  to 

after  sch 

"  I  w: 

are  so  s 

are  r=  hi 

eyes  lati 

"  Oh 

said  Ra 

even    ir 

"  Now, 

substan 

"I'll 

sation 

Misses 

danger 

out  the 

A  v 

but  he 

fore  hi 

to  the 

knowr 


A    LITTLE    ADVOCATE. 


100 


)u  want  to 
111  how  you 
iig  his  hat 
,'ciy  boy  in 
1  this  as  in 
idcd  to  the 
to  school, 
mc  good." 
,"  shouted 
lo  the  girls 

ition  at  her 
lining  face 
'  You  arc  a 
ose  to  him 
if  you,  and 
:  good." 
1  begin  to 
;   look   bad 

nent    Ray  ? 
that  warm 


little  speech.  Nevertheless,  she  was  just  as 
ready  to  admire  again  when  Ray  came  to  her 
after  school  to  enlist  her  sympathies. 

"  I  was  there  and  I  didn't  suspect,  but  you 
are  so  smart,"  she  said,  "and  I  do  believe  you 
arc  r=  ht,  too  ;  I've  seen  a  sad  look  in  Miss  Jo's 

eyes  lately." 

"Oh!  that's  from  poring  over  your  epithet," 
said  Ray,  succumbing  to  his  propensity  to  tease 
even  in  the  midst  of  such  serious  business. 
<'  Now,  Ollie,  you  really  have  a  chance  to  give 
substantial  comfort ;   suppose  you  try." 

"  I'll  try,"  replied  his  sister.  Which  conver- 
sation simply  means  that  Ray  suspected  the 
Misses  Ralison  were  in  trouble,  their  home  in 
danger  of  being  lost,  and  wished  Olive  to  find 
out  the  facts  in  the  case. 

A  very  small  thing  aroused  his  suspicions, 
but  he  felt  very  sure  of  his  ground.  When  be- 
fore had  Miss  Jo  ever  opened  the  garden  gatp 
to  the  boys  ?  indeed,  when  had  she  ever  been 
known  to  sanction  its  opening  ?     Yet  she  had 


1  10 


A   LITTLE   ADVOCATE. 


done  it  that  day,  and  when  he  advanced,  bowing, 
and  asked  for  a  pair  of  scissors  to  fit  a  piece  of 
court-plaster  to  a  scratch  on  his  hand,  had  slie 
not  invited  the  other  boys  in,  jaying  she  was 
sure  tliey  were  welcome  and  always  would  be, 
while  she  owned  the  place.  And  when  they 
said  politely,  they  hoped  that  would  be  as  long 
as  the  old  schoolhouse  stood,  she  glanced  at 
Jennie,  and  Miss  Jennie  sighed,  and  said  she 
would  be  content  if  sure  it  would  be  as  long  as 
the  present  scholars  remained  there,  but  added, 
as  if  to  allay  suspicion,  "Everything  in  this 
world  is  precarious,  you  know,  my  dears;  we  are 
not  sure  of  even  our  own  lives." 

Tender-hearted  Ray  had  pondered  the  words 
all  day.  They  must  not  be  turned  out  of  their 
home,  the  dear  old  ladies !  there  was  some  way 
to  prevent  it  if  they  were  only  sure ;  and  then 
Olive's  happy  faculty  of  getting  at  the  botcom 
of  things  suggested  itself.  "  Either  Miss  Jo's 
going  1;o  die  or  they  have  lost  their  home,"  Ray 
asserted. 


It  was 

needed 

Jennie,  ^ 

no  com  I 

feared,  t 

whole  di 

"  The 

but  we 

paid  unl 

sew,  an 

have  lei 

house  n 

bard  th 

all  my  1 

"Oh 

it,"    sai 

tell  Jes 

Hubba 

But 

plain  2 

had  m 

with  a 


A    LITTLE    AUVOCATK. 


lit 


cd,  bowing, 

t  a  piece  of 

id,  had  she 

ig  she  was 

.  w(Jiild  be, 

when    they 

be  as  long 

glanced   at 

d   said    she 

as  long  as 

but  added, 

ng    in    this 

:ars ;  we  are 

I  the  words 
nit  of  their 
s  some  way 
! ;  and  then 
the  botcom 
r  Miss  Jo's 
borne,"  Ray 


It  was  indeed  true,  and  not  many  words  were 
needed  to  draw  the  whole  story  from  Miss 
Jennie,  who  loved  to  talk  over  things  and  had 
no  companionship  in  her  reticent  sister;  she 
feared,  too,  that  she  was  at  the  bottom  of  this 
whole  disastrous  affair. 

"The  house  has  been  mortgaged  for  years, 
but  we  always  managed  to  keep  the  interest 
paid  until  lately.  I've  been  so  poorly  I  couldn't 
sew,  and  some  of  the  ladies  we  depended  on 
have  left  the  city,  and  so  we've  had  to  use  the 
house  rent  for  evcry-day  expenses.  Mr.  Hub- 
bard threatens  to  foreclose,  and  it  seems  to  be 
all  my  fault,"  sobbed  Miss  Jennie. 

"Oh!  but  i  =sn't ;  and  if  it  is,  you  can't  help 
it,"  said  Olive  comfortingly.  "Couldn't  you 
tell  Jesus,  as  my  mamma  does  .>  he  can  stop  Mr. 
Hubbard." 

But  that  night  Olive  asked  her  father  to  ex- 
plain all  about  mortgages  to  her,  and  when  he 
had  made  her  comprehend,  sat  for  a  long  time 
with  a  very  preoccupied  face. 


112 


A    I.ITTl.E   ADVOCATE. 


"  Papa,  arc  you  rich  ? "  she  asked  at  length. 

"  Nt),  ilcar." 

"  Why  not  ?     Don't  you  cam  a  good  deal  of 

money  ?" 

"Yes,"  admitted  Mr.  Gardcnell ;  "and  I  spend 
.1  good  deal.  Will  you  understand  if  I  tell  you 
all  about  the  various  charities  and  missions  and 
individuals  who  call  upon  papa  for  help.'" 

"  Do  you  s'pose  you  could  raise  a  hundred 
dollars,  papa  >     Are  we  very  poor  .'  " 

"  O,  no,  dear  !  we  arc  not  poor  at  all.  There 
is  a  great  difference  between  poverty  and  wealth. 
I  could  raise  a  hundred  dollars  very  easily. 
Why  do  you  ask,  my  dear .'  " 

"  It's  a  secret,"  answered  his  daughter.  Rut 
the  ne.\t  day  she  found  opportunity  to  ask  Miss 
Je  if  a  hundred  dollars  would  pay  the  mortgage  ; 
she  was  most  sure  she  could  get  so  much. 

"No  ;"  Miss  Jennie  shook  her  head.  "  It  was 
f..lly  fifteen  hundred  dollars,  and  she  must  not 
trouble  her  dear  little  head  about  it.  She  must 
kiss  her  and  never  mention  it  to  any  one." 


Olive  I 

herself  t 

she  couU 

"  I'apa 

Judge  \\ 

<*Ycs, 

his  repu 

gives  al 

Lord's  ' 

then  pa| 

the  col( 

eyes  br 

Thci 

Olive   I 

She  di 

mamm: 

somcth 

So  ma 

who  w 

charge 

corner 

o'clocl 


A    LITTI.K    AOVOCATK. 


"3 


It  lonj;th. 

oocl  ileal  of 

and  I  spcMul 

f  I  tell  you 

lissions  and 

.dp?- 

:  a  hundred 

all.  There 
'  and  wealth, 
very   easily. 

ightcr.     But 
to  ask  Miss 
e  mortgage  ; 
much. 

\d.  "  It  was 
he  must  not 
.  She  must 
I  one." 


Olive  kissed  her.  but  was  careful  not  to  pledge 
herself  to  silence.  How  could  she  help  her  if 
she  could  not  speak  of  it  ? 

"Papa,"  she  bri)ko  out  th-'t  evening,  "is 
Judge  Wilde  rich  ?" 

"Yes,  dear,  he  is  counted  so,  though  1  think 
his  reputation  for  wealth  exceeds  the  facts.  He 
gives  all  his  income  above  his  ex,K-.nscs  to  the 
Lord's  work.  Do  you  understand  that?"  and 
then  papa  explained  his  words  and  noticed  that 
the  color  grew  in  his  little  girl's  face  and  her 
eyes  brightened  as  he  proceeded. 

The  next  day  was  Saturday.    In  the  afternoon 
Olive   obtained    permission   to  go  to  the   city. 
She  did    not  divulge  her  errand,  however.     If 
mamma  would  please  to   trust  her,  'cause  it  was 
something  good  and  she  would  know  some  day. 
So  mamma  kissed  her  "Good-by  I  "  and  Herbert, 
who  was   also   going   to   the   city,  took  her  in 
charge.     He  was  to  leave  her  at  a  certain  street 
corner  where  she  would  meet  him  again  at  five 
o'clock.     It  was  very  hard  not  to  tell  him  all 


114 


A    LITTLE    ADVOCATE. 


about  it,  but  she  kept  it  close  by  shutting  her 
lijjs  hard,  and  being  unusually  silent.  He  might 
not  approve  of  her  errand,  but  If  he  did  not 
know  it,  how  could  he  object  ? 

She  knew  her  way  very  well  indeed,  and  had 
the  wisest  of  plans  in  her  wise  little  head.  So 
when  Judge  Wilde  said  "  Come  !  "  in  answer  to 
a  rather  timid  knock  at  his  ofKicc  door,  he  was 
surprised  and  delighted  at  the  bright  sweet  face 
that  peeped  in  on  hi\n. 

"  Arc  you  all  alone,  dear  judge,  and  can  you 
spare  me  a  half-hour  as  well  as  not  ? "  she  asked 
politely. 

"  Better  than  not.  Alone,  and  at  your  dispo- 
sal for  the  whole  afternoon,  Birdie.  I  am  so 
tired  I  was  about  to  put  up  work. 

"  I  guess  you  were  sent  to  rest  me.  What  a 
blessed  bit  of  sunshine  you  are,  lighting  up  this 
old  musty  office."  In  a  moment  more  our  little 
woman  was  cuddled  in  the  judge's  arms,  her  hat 
■on  the  table,  while  his  hand  sm.oothed  her  brown 
curls. 


A   LITTLE   ADVOCATE. 


115 


;hutting  her 

.     He  misiht 

he  did    not 

:ed,  and  had 
e  head.  So 
n  answer  to 
ioor,  he  was 
it  sweet  face 

ind  can  you 
'"  she  asked 

t  your  dispo- 
:.     I   am    so 

ne.  What  a 
iting  up  this 
ore  our  little 
irms,  her  hat 
;d  her  brown 


«'  I  wonder  what  has  bought  me  this  privilege. 
Want  to  consult  uncle  on  papa's  last  court  to 
see  if  Ray  was  tried  properly  ;  is  that  it  ?  "  for 
the  judge  had  been  called  in  as  authority  more 
than  once  by  this  small  lady. 

"No,  Judge  Wilde,  this  is  a  truly  case,  and 
you  will  please  not  laugh  to-day,"  replied  Olive 
gravely.  So  the  judge  lengthened  his  face  and 
declared  himself  ready  to  hear  a  clear  statement 
of  her  business. 

"  Uncle  Judge,  you  have  lots  of  money,  haven't 

you  .'  "  she  began. 

-Let  me  sec,"  replied  her  friend,  commencing 
to  rummage  his  pockets.  "  Enough  to  get  you 
a  ribbon  or  two,  or  a  new  doll-baby,  I  guess." 

"Now,  you  arc  laughing  at  me,"  she  said 
indignantly.  "Do  be  a  good,  nice  Christian, 
please,  and  tell  me  if  you  are  rich." 

« I'm  a  child  of  the  King,"  said  the  gentle- 
man. "  I  have  all  I  want,  and  plenty  to  use  in 
the  King's  busmess.  Suppose  you  tell  me  what 
money  is  needed." 


! 


ii6 


A    LITTLE   ADVOCATE. 


"  It'b  the  King's  business,  really  and  truly, 
Uncle.  Oh  !  I'm  so  glad  He  gives  you  plenty 
to  use,  for  this  will  take  a  lot  more  than  a 
thousand  dollars,"  speaking  slowly,  and  looking 
into  the  gentleman's  face  to  note  the  effect  of 
this  announcement. 

Judge  Wilde  opened  his  eyes,  b'.it  his  lips 
smiled  reassuringly,  and  she  reached  up  to  kiss 
him  and  call  him  a  uarling,  and  with  many  diver- 
sions proceeded  to  tell  her  story,  much  to  the 
amusement  and  interest  of  her  listener. 

"  You  dear  little  chicken !  and  your  soft 
little  heart  is  aching  for  your  dear  Miss  J's. 
You  are  mamma's  daughter,  I  see." 

"  Dear  Uncle  Judge,  if  you  were  a  poor  woman 
—  no,  two  women  —  'cause  it's  a  truly  case  — and 
had  only  one  brother  and  he  died  —  you  mustn't 
kiss  my  hair,  but  listen  —  and  was  covered  with 
violets  ;  and  if  your  land  had  to  go  to  build 
schoolhouses  for  children,  and  houses  for  folks, 
and  you  hadn't  anything  left  to  s'port  both  of 
you  but  one  yellow  house,  and  people  living  in 


the  bigge 

sick  and 

the   rent 

couldn't 

you  s'poi 

it  all  up 

off  to  sc 

"  It  Ic 

"  Anc 

had  lots 

girl,  wh 

'cause 

part  — 

part  of 

could  I 

their  \ 

this  li 

have  i 

and  a 

good 

comfc 

violet 


j 


and  truly, 
'Oil  plenty 
re  than  a 
id  looking 
2  effect  of 

t  his  lips 
up  tu  kiss 
lany  diver- 
ich  to  the 
ler. 

your    soft 
Miss   J's. 

)or  woman 
;ase  — and 
ou  mustn't 
vercd  with 
0  to  build 
;  for  folks, 
rt  both  of 


living  in 


A    LITTLE    ADVOCATE. 


117 


the  biggest  part  Of  it;  and  if  one  of  you  go 
sick  and  couldn't  sew  any  more,  and  it  took  all 
the  rent  for  the  doctor  and  things,  and  you 
couldn't  pay  interest  on  the  mortgage,  don  t 
you  s'pose  it  'ud  be  the  King's  business  to  pay 
it  all  up  'fore  the  hateful  old  man  could  sell  it 
off  to  some  one  else  ?  " 

..  It  looks  like  it,"  assented  the  gentleman. . 
..And-andif  Iwasrichandajudge,  and 

had  lots  of  the  King's  money  to  use  and  a  httle 

girl,  who  had  prayed  about  it,  came  and  told  me, 

cause  Miss  Je-she's  one  of  you,  the  littlest 

p,n-cricd,  and  Miss  Jo -she's  the  biggest 
part  of  you-looked  solemn,  and  the  boys  never 
could  go  in  there  again  to  get  drinks  or  have 
their  hands  tied  up  when  they  cut  them,  and 
this  little  girl  who  came  to  me  couldn't  ever 
have  any  more  gingerbread  horses  with  an  eye 
and  a  tail -don't  you  think  I  ought  to  take  a 

good  lot  of  money  and  pay  the  mortgage,  and 
comfort  you.  specially  when  Robert's  dead  and 
violets  stifle  you  ?  " 


ii8 


A    LITTLE    ADVOCATE. 


Judge  Wilde  tried  hard  not  to  laugh  as  his 
little  friend  reached  this  climax,  and  turned  on 
him  her  wide-open,  solemn  blue  eyes.  He  put 
his  lips  to  her  forehead  and  hid  his  face  in  her 
curls,  but  the  voice  shook  a  little  that  replied 
decorously  :  — 

"  Yes ;  it  looks  so,  I  must  say.  But  you 
know  one  must  be  very  careful  and  look  into 
matters  before  using  another's  money.  I  shall 
want  the  word  of  the  King." 

"  '  All  things  whatsoever  ye  would  that  men 
should  do  to  you,  do  ye  even  so  to  them.' 
That's  His  word,  and  it  was  my  verse  this 
morning,"  said  the  child  triumphantly.  "  Miss 
Je  will  die,  and  Miss  Jo's  heart  will  break,  I  just 
know,  if  they  have  to  go  away  from  the  yellow 
nest.  They  were  born  there,  and  had  a  nice 
lawn  where  the  large  house  stands  now,  and  our 
schoolyard  was  their  garden.  They  were  rich, 
and  now  it's  all  gone  but  just  that  little  yellow 
house  and  — and  — their  make-b'lievc  garden  not 
as  big  as  this  office,  and  they  haven't  any  papa 


or  mamr 

if  it  was 

on   Jud< 

form  sh 

"  \Vh 

a  plea 

uncle,  a 

the  am( 

do  you 

"Ye 

Then 

any   bi 

leaned 

while  1 

«VV 

at  lent 

"Y( 

does  1 

will  he 

"D 

you  V 

some. 


A   LITTLE    ADVOCATE. 


119 


igh  as  his 
turned  on 
He  put 
ace  in  her 
lat  replied 

But    you 

look  into 

f.     I  shall 

that  men 
to  them.' 
verse  this 
y.  "  Miss 
•eak,  I  just 
the  yellow 
had  a  nice 
w,  and  our 
were  rich, 
ttle  yellow 
garden  not 
t  any  papa 


or  mamma  or  any  Robert,  and  I  know  I'd  die  too 
if  it  was  mc."  And  down  went  the  curly  head 
on  Judge  Wilde's  bosom,  while  the  childish 
form  shook  with  sobs. 

"  Why,  my  darling,  crying  after  making  such 
a  plea  as  that !  Why,  what  a  lawyer  !  Kiss 
uncle,  and  let  us  look  it  all  over.  Now  tell  me 
the  amount  due,  and  who  holds  the  mortgage,  or 
do  you  know,  dear  baby  ?  " 

<'Yes;  I  know  everything,"  sobbed  Olive. 
Then  she  sat  up  and  answered  questions  as 
any  brave  little  advocate  might.  Her  friend 
leaned  his  face  on  his  hands,  watching  her  the 
while  he  mused. 

"  What  arc  you  thinking  of,  Uncle  Judge  ? " 
at  length  she  questioned. 

"  You  are  very  like  your  mother,  darling,  and  it 
docs  my  old  heart  good  to  know  it.  The  world 
will  have  another  brave,  true  woman,  please  God." 
"  Do  you  think  so  1  I'm  so  glad,  only  —  only 
you  know  I  don't  always  like  to  be  good  ;  only 
some,  when  it's  easy  and  nice." 


120 


A    LITTLE    ADVOCATE. 


He  smiled  and  kissed  her,  caressing  the  beauti- 
ful head. 

"What  will  you  do,  Uncle  Judge.?  Do  you 
think  p'raps  tha  King  sent  me  }  " 

"  I  feel  pretty  sure  He  did." 

She  clapped  her  hands.  "  Then  you  will  save 
the  little  yellow  house,  you  darling  man,"  .she 
cried.  "  I  knew  you  would,  and  you  arc  too 
good  for  anything,  and  i  love  you  —  heaps," 
throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  hu"-- 
ging  him  to  strangulation.  "You're  just  an 
angel." 

"  Minus  the  wings,"  laughed  the  judge. 

"  They  never  have  any,  papa  says  ;  he  don't 
think  so  ,  and  I  believe  like  papa.  O,  dear 
Judge  Wilde,  v/hen  will  you  pay  it  all  up.? 
May  I  tell  my  dear  J's  to-night .'  " 

"  No,  no,  my  dear  !  you  must  be  very  good, 
and  say  never  a  word  to  anybody.  There  may 
be  difficulties  to  overcome.  There,  don't  look  dis- 
tressed. Birdie  ;  uncle  can't  bear  that  ;  it's  sure 
to  come  out  right  if   it's  the    King's  business, 


and    I'll 
submitt 

It    Wc 

disturbc 

have  g( 

rose    h; 

reached 

"  Wh 

gravely 

the  clas 

"  Pre 

Good-b 

the  doi 

"  That' 

the  wo 

"Al 

suppos 

"N{ 

momei 

sun  bi 

to  Ch 

up  to 


A    LITTLE    ADVOCATE. 


121 


the  beauti- 
Do  you 


1  will  save 
nan,"  she 
Li  arc  too 
—  heaps," 
and  luig- 
;    just  an 


he  don't 
O,  dear 
all   up  ? 

:ry  good, 
liere  may 
t  look  dig- 
it's sure 
business. 


and   I'll  be  as  speedy   as  possible."     Then  he 
submitted  to  another  hugging. 

It  was  well,  perhaps,  that  a  rap  at  the  door 
disturbed  the  two  just  then,  or  Herbert  might 
have  got  tired  of  his  street-corner.  The  judge 
rose  hastily  to  greet  his  visitor,  and  Olive 
reached  for  her  hat. 

"When  shall  I  see  you  again?"  she  asked 
gravely,  submitting  to  have  her  hat  put  on,  and 
the  clastic  placed  under  her  chin. 

"  Pretty  soon  ;  in  the  course  of  a  week,  I  trust. 
Good-by.  Posie  ! "  kissing  her  fondly.  Then  as 
the  door  closed  he  said,  turning  to  his  visitor, 
"  That's  the  sweetest  bit  of  flesh  and  blood  in 

the  world,  sir." 

"Ah!   a  baby-daughter  or  grand-daughter,  I 

suppose  .-■ " 

"  Neither  ; "  something  like  a  cloud  for  a 
moment  touching  the  fine  old  face.  Then  the 
sun  broke  through.  "  Her  mother  brought  me 
to  Christ,  sir.  I  am  one  of  a  legion  who  rise 
up  to  call  her  blessed.     How  can  I  serve  you  ? " 


I  22 


A   LITTLE   ADVOCATE. 


Meanwhile  the  little  lady  in  the  hall  stopped 
a  moment  to  readjust  her  hat  ilacing  the  clastic 
where  it  belonged  ;  under  tl  .  curh  instead  of 
the  chin. 

"  lie  didn't  know  any  better,  and  I'd  hate  to 
hurt  his  feelings,"  she  .said  to  herself.  "  P'r'ps 
little  girls  wore  it  that  way  when  he  was  a  boy. 
He  is  old-fashioned,  but  just  as  sweet  —  as 
sweet  as  mamma's  old-time  flowers  that  papa 
likes  so  well.  I'm  like  papa ;  I  love  old-fashioned 
things." 


In 

All 
An 


Ray  saic 

wonderf 

It  see 

ber  Tvf 

almost 

door   ai 

Herber 

"  Yo 

terribl) 

as  he  t 


lall  stopped 

;  the  clastic 

instead  of 

I'd  hate  to 
f.     '•  P'r'ps 

was  a  boy. 

sweet  —  as 

that  papa 
d-fashioncd 


CHAPTER  X. 

PERHAPS. 

In  the  childish  heart  below 

All  the  sweetness  seemed  t..  grow  and  grow, 

And  shine  out  in  happy  overflow, 

From  her  blue,  bright  eyes. 

T.  Westwood. 

A  WEEK  was  a  long  time  for  a  little  girl's 
patience,  but  it  lasted  "by  patching,"  as 
Ray  said,  for  he  cheered  her  through  its  length 

wonderfully. 

It  seemed  strange  to  have  a  secret  with  Num- 
ber Two  unshared  by  Number  One.  She  felt 
almost  guilty  when  she  opened  the  study-room 
door  and  beckoned   Ray   away.     What   would 

Herbert  think  ? 

«  You  see  I'm  coming  into  favor.  Aren't  you 
terribly  jealous?"  asked  the  tease  of  his  brother 
as  he  turned  to  obey  the  summons. 

123 


I 


1^4 


I'F.RIIAPS. 


"You  won't  feci  bad,  you  darling,  will  you?" 
cried  Olive,  coming  in  to  kiss  the  neglected  one 
on  his  nose.     "  You  are  best,  best  "  — 

"  Hester,  bestcst !  go  it,  01,"  said  Ray,  finish- 
ing the  comparison. 
"No,  I  mean  good  "  — 

"  Gooder,  goodcst ;  that's  pure  Saxon,"  per- 
sisted the  naughty  boy. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,  don't  you,  Ilervie? 
and  you're  never  a  tease.  But  I  have  to  tell 
Ray  'cause  it  was  his  secret  at  first,  and  he  can 
be  nice  when  he  tries." 

The  week  ended  with  a  summons  to  the  par- 
lor. "Judge  Wilde  would  like  to  see  Miss  Olive 
alone." 

Papa  looked  up  from  his  paper  in  astonish- 
ment;  mamma  opened  her  eyes;  Ray  whistled, 
and  the  young  lady  herself  glided  out  of  the 
room  with  great  dignity,  and  a  very  knowing 
glance  cast  at  her  brother. 

"  It's  business,  papa.  I'll  'splain  some  other 
time,"  she  said  loflily. 


Businc 

decorum 
speedily 
arms,  co 
mortgage 
vinced  it 
been  gn 
Then  he 
the  tran! 
to  papa. 

So  wl" 
examine 
told  Mr. 
story  of 
come.  ] 
as  relate: 
with  tea: 

Papa 
permissi 

"And 
it  be-au 
the  tint 


1 


PERHAPS. 


1-5 


will  you?" 
L>glcctccl  one 

Ray,  finish- 


Saxon,"  per- 
son, Mcrvie  ? 
have  to  tell 
,  and  he  can 

i  to  the  par- 
:e  Miss  Olive 

in  astonish- 
R.ay  whistled, 
d  out  of  the 
'cry  knowing 

\  some  other 


Business,  yes,  and  so  dcli^ditful  !  All  the 
decorum  was  shaken  out  of  the  young  lady 
speedily  when  the  judge  caught  her  up  in  his 
arms,  covering  her  with  kisses,  and  put  the 
mortgage  in  her  hands,  telling  her  he  was  con- 
vinced it  was  the  King's  business,  and  she  had 
been  greatly  honored  as  his  royal  advocate. 
Then  he  pledged  her  to  secrecy  as  to  his  part  in 
the  transaction,  and  promised  to  tell  the  story 
to  papa. 

So  while  the  little  girl  wiled  away  Ray  to 
examine  the  precious  documents,  Judge  Wilde 
told  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gardenell  and  Herbert  the 
story  of  the  child's  visit  to  his  office,  and  its  out- 
come. It  was  a  very  pathetic  yet  amusing  story 
as  related  by  the  judge,  and  his  listeners  laughed 
with  tears  in  their  eyes. 

Papa  said  Yes,  when  his  girlie  came  to  ask 
permission  to  go  at  once  to  Miss  Jo's. 

"And  you  know  all  about  it  now,  papa.  Isn't 
it  be-au-ti-ful .' "  she  cried.  "And  you're  not 
the  tintiest  bit  jealous   now,  are    you,  Ilervie.' 


126 


I'KRIIAI'S. 


'Cause  you  sec  I  couldn't  tell,  though  I  wanted 
to  awfully.  Vou  can  go  with  Raynioiitl  and  mc 
if  you  w;int  to." 

Ildbeit  ckclined  the  invitation,  assuring  her 
he  had  not  had  a  particle  of  jealousy,  and  with  a 
sealed  envelope,  plaeeil  in  her  hand  by  papa, 
who  whispered  a  message  that  set  her  dancing 
all  about  the  room,  she  at  last  departed  with 
Ray  for  company. 

"Here  it  is.  Miss  Jo,"  cried  the  little  girl, 
dashing  into  the  little  house  and  thrusting  the 
mortgage  and  release  into  the  lady's  hand, 
"  Here  it  is,  all  paid  off.  You  must  read  every 
word  of  it  before  you  look  up,  and  you  needn't 
thank  .  .  ^  body,  'cause  I  didn't  do  it.  Oh!  you'd 
never  guess  who  did  ;  and  he  doesn't  want  you 
to  know.  He's  one  of  the  best  of  men — as 
good,  as  good  as  my  papa,  only  it  isn't  papa, 
'cause  he's  not  rich  enough,  and  I'm  so  glad," 
all  in  a  breath. 

Miss  Jo  had  been  trying  to  listen  and  read, 
too,  as  she  stooped  above  the  lamp  ;  now  a  look 


of  bev 

the  fa 

believ 

and  w 

"O 

the  (p 

you'll 

now  ; 

"V 

niildl; 

"V 

all  p:i 

in  lu 

her  c 

"  I 

little 

<(  c 


Ral 


i; 


woul 
was 
for 
than 


PERHArS. 


127 


iij^'h  1  wanted 
lond  aiul  nic 

assuring  her 
.y,  and  with  a 
ind  by  papa, 
t  her  dancinj; 
lepartcd  with 

he  little  girl, 

thrusting  the 

lady's    hand. 

St  read  every 

1  you  needn't 

it.    Oh !  you'd 

sn't  want  you 

of   men  —  as 

it   isn't    papa, 

I'm  so  glad," 

ten  and  read, 
p  ;  now  a  look 


of  bewilderment  came  to  her  face  as  she  scanned 
the  familiar  iloeument.  "  Paid  !  "  she  could  not 
believe  he;  e)es.  What  was  that  child  saying, 
and  who  had  done  this  ? 

"Oh!  you  needn't  a.sk,"  cried  Olive,  reading 
the  question  in  her  eyes.  "Isn't  it  fun?  And 
you'll  never  know  ;  it's  a  forever  secret  :  and 
now  you  can  stay  here  and  be  happy." 

"What  is  it,  sister.-'"  asked  Jennie,  looking 
mildly  upon  the  two  e.xcitcd  people. 

"WHiy,  the  mortgage,  and  it's  paid,  Jennie  — 
all  paid.  God  bless  that  baby  !  "  with  a  quiver 
in  her  voice ;  "  I  don't  see  how  we  can  thank 
her  enough." 

"  I  didn't  do  it ;  I  don't  'serve  thanks,  only  a 
little  for  asking  him  to,  you  know." 

"Somebody  must  be  thanked,"  said  Miss 
Ralison  huskily.  This  unexpected  blessing  that 
would  spare  the  dear  old  home  to  Jennie  —  it 
was  only  of  Jennie  she  thought  — was  too  much 
for  her  self-possession.  "Somebody  must  be 
thanked,"  echoed  Miss  Jennie. 


128 


PERHAPS. 


"Then  it's  God,  I  s'pcct  ;  it's  his  money. 
Judge  —  oh  !  I  most  told  —  said  so,  and  —  and  I 
guess  he  must  have  told  Ray  to  put  me  to  work. 
But  it's  all  right,  and  you  won't  have  to  go  now, 
and  the  school  children  can  come  into  the  yard 
as  much  as  they  like,  forever  and  ever." 

"Amen,"  said  Miss  Jo  solemnly. 

"  Ain't  everybody  happy  ? "  cried  the  delighted 
child.     "  This  is  a  truly  comfort,  isn't  it.  Miss 

Jo?" 

"You're  a  blessed  child,"  returned  Miss  Jo 

fervently. 

"  I  know  it.  Papa  said  so  when  I  asked  him 
to  let  nie  come  here,  and  papa  always  tells  the 
truth.  I  guess  I'm  getting  good  some  — oh!  I 
most  forgot,"  searching  her  pocket.  "  Papa 
says  Mis-  Jennie  is  too  feeble  to  spend  this 
summer  in  New  York,  and  you  are  to  take  her 
to  the  mountains,"  putting  the  envelope  in  Miss 
Ralison's  hand.  "  It's  money  to  go  with,  and 
you  oughtn't  to  cry,"  much  distressed  as  Miss 
Johanna  gave  a  little   sob,  "'cause   papa   says 


she'll  c 

papa  al 

'Di« 

Miss  J 

"Yc 

"  but 

worry  i 

self,  ai 

But  si 

Jo  dai 

«  Y 

me  c 

can  d 

you 

foum 

"( 

Ray' 

he's 

mim 

"H( 

'sec 

Im 


PERHAPS. 


129 


money. 
—  and  I 
:o  work, 
go  now, 
;he  yard 


clighted 
it,  Miss 

Miss  Jo 

ked  him 
tells  the 
—  oh!  I 
"  Papa 
•end  this 
take  her 
s  in  Miss 
vith,  and 
,  as  Miss 
)apa   says 


she'll  come  back  all  right  af.er  her  trip,  and  my 
papa  always  tells  the  truth." 

•Did  any  one  ever  see  such  a  baby  .>"  asked 
Miss  Jo  through  her  tears. 

.-You're  not  a  baby,"  began  Olive  soothingly, 
.-but  you're  tired,  and  I  know  you  have  been 
worrying  about  Je.  You  don't  care  for  your- 
self, and  you're  just  splendid,  and  I  love  you  - 
But  she  got  no  farther  with  her  speech,  for  Miss 
Jo  darted  for  her  and  caught  her  in  her  arms. 

■  'You  won't  take  thanks,  and  you  won't  let 
n.e  call  you  baby,  so.  Tommy,  I  don't  see  as  I 
can  do  anything  for  you  but  give  you  a  kiss ;  but 
you  are  a  comfort,  sure;  though  h.  v  you  ever 
found  out  abc-t  it  I  don't  see." 

-Oh!  Ray  found  out,  and  he  guessea  it. 
Ray's  very  smart,  and  good,  too,  sometimes,  and 
he's  waiting  f.r  me, '  she  cried,  suddenly  re- 
minded that  all  this  time  Ray  stood  without. 
<.He  wouldn't  come  in.  'cause  he  don't  like 
•scenes/  and  papa  told  me  not  to  stay  long,  so 
I  must  go." 


V 


i:>o 


PERHAPS, 


Two  women  kissed  the  bright  little  face 
"  Goo(l-by  "  to-night,  and  one  said,  so  distinctly 
lliat  Ray  caught  every  word  as  the  dooj  opened, 
"Jennie,  we  must  make  Tommy  another  horse." 

lie  laughed  as  he  tucked  his  sister's  arm 
under  his  own. 

"You'd  soon  have  a  stable  full  if  you  saved 
them,  Princess.     What  did  they  say  >" 

"  Oh !  everything,"  sighed  the  little  maiden. 
"  You  ought  to  have  gone  in  if  you  wanted  to 
know  ;  I  couldn't  begin  to  tell." 

"  Try  ;  that's  a  duck,"  coaxed  Ray. 

"  Ray  Gardenell,  some  things  won't  let   you 
tell  them.     I'd  like  to,  but  I  can't.     It  was  just 
too  lovely  for  anything.     I   guess  p'r'aps  Miss 
Jo  is  the  biggest  woman,  after  all  —  biggest  in- 
side, you  know.     Ray  Gardenell,  let's  be  good." 
"When.'"  startled  at  her  abruptness. 
"Now  —  always;  it's  nice  to  be  good.     You 
are  a  darling  when  you  try ;   you've  been  just 
be-au-ti-ful  in  this !     S'pose  we  turn  real  good 
like  mamma  and  Hervie  .'  " 


"Su 

to  som 

go  ah( 

fine  C 

you're 

"D( 

It's    c 

nice. 

Ra) 

"N 

at .'  ai 

out. 

good, 

"V 

"T 

"T 

"V 

"P 

the  fi 

"P 

he  op 


V 


PERHAPS. 


131 


tic    face 
istinctly 
opened, 
horse." 
;r's   arm 

iu  saved 

maiden, 
anted  to 


let  you 
was  just 
aps  Miss 


ggest  in- 


le  good." 


Dd.  You 
Dcen  just 
real  good 


"Suppose  we  do,"  replied  Ray.  "I  expect 
to  some  day.  I'm  not  quite  ready  yet ;  but  you 
^0  ahead  ;  don't  wait  for  me.  You'd  make  a 
fine  Christian,  I  know  ;  mother's  kind.  When 
you're  good  you  always  remind  me  of  her." 

"Do  T  ?     Am  I  like  her  to-night,  Ray  dear .' 
It's    comfortable   to  have    people   think   you're 
nice.     I  do  like  to  be  good  some." 
Ray  laughed.     "  I  guess  it  is  some." 
"  Now,  Ray  Gardencll,  what  are  you  laughing 
at .'  and  you  are  so  tall  you  are  pulling  my  arms 
out.     I  don't  like  tall  boys.     Let's  begin,  and  be 
good,  do." 
"  When .' " 
"  To-night." 

"Too  soon  !  I've  some  fun  on  foot  this  week." 
"  Well,  next  week,  then.     Ray,  will  you  ?  " 
"Perhaps,"  assented   Ray  as  he  bounded  up 
the  front  steps  and  pulled  the  bell. 

"  Perhaps."     Mr.  Gardenell  heard  the  word  as 
he  opened  the  door,  but  did  not  catch  its  mean- 


\ 


CHAPTER   XI. 

TRYING   TO    BE    GOOD. 

'Tis  strange  when  babies  will  do  wrong 

They  always  take  to  sinning, 
Amid  a  choice  of  naughty  things, 

The  way  which  is  most  winning  ; 
Anrl  make  our  capture  more  complete, 

By  always  adding  sweet  to  sweet. 

S.  R.  G.  C. 

GUESS,"  said  Mamma  Gardcnell,  holding 
up  a  letter  as  papa  seated  himself  at  the 

supper-table. 

Papa   looked  very  wise.     "From   Jessie,"  he 

ventured. 

"Oh  !  you  peeped." 

"  Ray  left  it  on  the  hall  table,  and  as  I  passed 
I  noted  the  post-mark  and  handwriting,"  con- 
fessed the  gentleman. 

"  But  there's  news." 

"  Good  V  I 

132 


"Ver 

to  spcm 

Mr.  < 

"  What 

papa  hr 

"Oh 

ling?" 

let  any 

love  an 

do  me, 

"Nt 

"Be 

"N( 

fied  H 

"A 

as  I  1 

could 

you  n 

to  ler 

and  t 

you  s 

"/ 


\ 


TRYING   TO    EE    GOOD. 


133 


..   G.  C. 

holding 
If  at  the 

ssie,"  he 


I  passed 
ig,"  con- 


«'  Very.  Jessie  is  coming  with  her  two  girls 
to  spend  the  summer  with  us  at  Bloomingle." 

Mr.  Gardenell  looked  at  his  little  daughter. 
"What  will  my  girlie  do  then,  I  wonder?  her 
papa  has  only  two  knees." 

"Oh  !  I'll  have,  I'll  have  Hervie,  won't  I,  dar- 
ling ? "  turning  to  her  brother.  "  You'll  never 
let  any  one  but  me  sit  on  your  knee,  and  never 
love  anybody  else  in  all  the  world  so  well  as  you 
dome,  will  you,  Herbert?" 

"  Never,"  replied  her  brother  fondly. 
"  Be  careful,  my  son,"  said  papa  warningly. 
"  Never  while  you  love  me  best,  sister,"  modi- 
fied Herbert. 

"A  bargain ;  and  I  shall  never  break  it  as  long 
as  I  live,"  cried  Olive  warmly.  "As  if  I  ever 
could  love  anybody  as  well  as  my  Hervie !  Oh  ! 
you  needn't  look  jealous,  papa,  'cause  you  'tend 
to  lend  your  two  knees  to  Aunt  Jessie's  girls, 
and  they're  both  mine,  you  know.     But  I'll  love 

you  some." 

"And    mamma?"    inquired    the    gentleman 


134 


TRYiNG    TO    BE   GOOD. 


I 


dubiously,  "must   mamma  be  punished  for  my 
sins  ? " 

"No;  I  always  love  her  just  like  Hcrvie,  and 
—  and  you're  nice  some." 

Aunt  Jessie  was  coming  —  was  on  the  way 
indeed  ;  but  this  part  of  the  news  the  parents 
kept  to  themselves,  intending  to  surprise  their 
brood. 

"  Olive,  you  haven't  been  in  a  scrape  for  a 
week.  I'm  getting  an.xious  about  you.  What 
is  the  matter  .'  " 

"Why,  I'm  being  good." 
"  I  thought  so.     Olive,  I'm  afraid  you'll  die 
young."     The  sepulchral  tone  startled  the  wee 
girl  not  a  little,  yet  she  said  bravely, — 

"  Ray  Gardenell.  do  you  s'pose  God  would 
take  papa's  only  little  daughter  from  him  just 
'cause  she's  trying  to  be  good?  'Sides,  I'm 
only  good  some." 

"That's  it,"  said  Ray,  changing  his  tactics, 
"and  some  good  don't  amount  to  much,  espe- 
cially when  molasses  candy  is  in  the  wind." 


"Wb 

"Kit 

delicioi 

"We 

off  con 

"It 

science 

genuin 

be  out 

My!  1 

01i\ 

"\\ 

"O 

more 

"\ 

that  1 

"/ 

cand; 

"1 

forta 

cess. 

no  s: 


TRYING    iO    BE    GOOD. 


135 


led  for  my 

-Icrvic,  and 

in  the  way 
he  parents 
•prise  their 

;rape  for  a 
ou.     What 


I  you'll  die 
led  the  wee 

God  would 
m  him  just 
'Sides,   I'm 

his  tactics, 
much,  espe- 
wind." 


"  Where  ? "  inquired  Olive,  interested. 
"Kitchen;    Jane    out;    coast    dear;    smells 

delicious." 

"Well,  I'll  just  go  and  peck."     So  Ray  went 
off  contented  with  his  stratagem. 

"It  isn't  wicked,"  he  said,  to  soothe  his  con- 
science. "  She  is  deceiving  herself ;  it's  not 
genuine.  Good  some  is  no  good  ;  might  as  well 
be  out-and-out  naughty  and  have  that  candy. 
My  !  how  nice  it  smells." 

Olive  soon  made  her  appearance. 
"  Where's  your  apron,  Ol  ?  " 
"  Oh  !  I've  only  come  to  peek.     I  won't  take 
more  than  a  tiny  taste." 

"You  know  mamma  won't  like  it  if  you  soil 

that  new  dress." 

"  And  you  know  she  don't  allow  you  to  make 
candy  without  Jane's  permission." 

"  Tit  for  tat,"  laughed  Ray,  somewhat  uncom- 
fortably, however.  "  Take  your  own  way.  Prin- 
cess. Jane  needn't  be  so  cross  ;  I'm  sure  there's 
no  sin  in  making  molasses  candy." 


136 


TRYING   TO    BE    GOOD. 


"  Not  in   naking  it,"  said  Olive  significantly. 

"  What  authority  has  an  old  servant  girl,  I'd 
like  to  know  .'  What  sin  is  there  in  disobeying 
her.'     I'm  not  going  to  be  bossed." 

"  O,  Ray  Gardencll !  you  know  it's  disobeying 
mamma  when  you  disobey  Jane  in  her  own 
'realm,'"  said  Miss  Olive  loftily.  "Mamma 
'splained  it  all  to  me.  Jane  is  queen  in  the 
kitchen,  mamma  said,  and  must  be  obeyed." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Ray  tartly.  "  It  was  never 
explained  to  me.  '  Not  a  bit  of  canciy  shall  you 
make  to-day,'  .she  said  when  I  asked  her,  and  it's 
no  use  to  appeal  to  mamma.  Why  need  Jane 
be  so  cross  ?  " 

"  She  isn't  always ;  not  when  she  bakes  us 
tarts  and  things." 

"Well,  I  didn't  really  mean  to  disobey,"  con- 
tinued the  boy,  as  much  to  reassure  himself  as 
to  enlighten  his  sister.  "  Fact  is,  I  gave  it  up  ; 
but  I  came  in  after  a  string  and  found  this  mo- 
lasses all  turned  out  just  on  purpose  to  tempt  a 
follow." 


"  Y( 
if  you 
Ray 
what 
"  PerV 
throu] 
takes 
Wl 
molaj 
and  s 
Ray 
a  mo 
the  s 
who 

she 

Sha 

dres 

B 

was 

ap 


TRYING   TO   DE   GOOD. 


137 


ficantly. 
It  girl,  I'd 
lisobcying 

lisobcying 
her   own 

"  Mamma 

:n   in  the 

:yed." 

was  never 
shall  you 

;r,  and  it's 

leed  Jane 

bakes  us 

bey,"  con- 
himself  as 
;ave  it  up ; 
d  this  mo- 
te tempt  a 


..  You  must  'sist  temptation,  Ray  Gardenell. 
if  you  want  to  be  good." 

Ray  shook  with  laughter.  "  We  shall  sec 
what  we  shall  see  presently."  he  prophesied. 
.'Perhaps,  good  little  girl,  we  shall  be  all 
through  before  Jane  gets  back.  She  generally 
takes  the  afternoon  when  she  goes  out." 

What  a  delightful  time  they  had !  How  the 
molasses  boiled  up  and  over ;  how  they  mixed 
and  stirred  and  tasted  !  Olive  forgot  her  dress. 
Ray  his  compunctions,  and  Harry  coming  ni  for 
a  moment  forgot  his  play  and  remained  to  share 
the  spoil.  When  the  fun  was  fairly  at  its  height 
who  should  appear  but  Jane. 

..  Now.  Master  Ray,  this  is  how  you  obey," 
she  cried,  "and  you  the  son  of  a  minister. 
Shame  on  you.  Miss  Olive  Hook  at  your  pretty 

dress. 

But  Olive  had  no  time  for  reflection.  She 
was  pulling  the  lovely  yellow  stuff,  and  offered 
a  piece  to  Jane  to  mollify  her. 

..  I  don't  want  it ;  'twould  'choke  me.     What 


138 


TRYING   TO    UE    GOOD. 


with  working  like  I  Cud  to  get  the  kitchen  straight 
before  the  company  came  —  though  to  be  sure 
they'll  see  little  of  it,  one  does  like  things 
nice.  What  is  the  use  of  scrubbing  the  floor 
and  the  chairs?  See  the  marks  of  your  feet, 
Master  Harry,  all  over  that  scat,"  and  out 
bounced  Jane  in  high  dudgeon. 

"  O,  dear!"  sighed  Olive,  "why  can't  every 
body  be  good .'  It's  so  selfish  to  spoil  folks's 
fun."     And  Ray  laughed  slyly. 

"  P'r'aps  Jane  thinks  we's  spoiling  her  fun," 
said  Harry,  wi'  i  a  rueful  look  at  the  chair  he 
had  muddied.     "  P'r'aps  she  likes  things  nice." 

"P'r'aps,"  assented  Olive,  "but  she  oughter 
be  willing  to  suffer  some,  'cause  she's  a  Christian, 
and  there's  always  things  to  bear.  How  do  you 
s'pose  she  thinks  we  bear  her  scolding  ?"  in  an 
abused  tone. 

"  Let's  make  her  taste  our  candy,"  suggested 
Ray. 

"  Oh  !  let's,  let's,"  cried  Olive  and  Harry  in  a 
breath. 


Out 

hands, 
saw  \.\ 

u  PI 

Jane, 
plead 
"G 
your 
and  I 
morr 
moss 
aunt 

then 

enin 
t( 

crie( 
(I 

do  i 

fun 

spe( 


TRYING    TO    HE   GOOD. 


139 


n  straight 
0  be  sure 
vc   things 

the  floor 
>'our  f'jct, 

and    out 

n't  every 
)il  folks's 

her  fun," 
;  chair  he 
i"s  nice." 
i  oughter 
Christian, 
w  do  you 


?"  i 


in  an 


suggested 


[arry  in  a 


Out  to  the  back  room  they  rushed,  candy  in 
hands,  filling  Jane's  heart  with  dismay  as  she 
saw  the  door-knobs  in  their  sticky  fingers. 

"  I'lease  take  a  taste,"  they  petitioned.  "  Dear 
Jane,  for  my  sake,  "cause  I'm  sorry  I'm  naughty." 

plead  Olive. 

'•  Go  away,  naughty  children  !  I  won't  touch 
your  stuff,"  declared  Jane,  motioning  them  off, 
and  continuing  to  sprinkle  the  clothes  for  to- 
morrow's ironing.  "Get  through  with  your 
moss  and  be  off,  so  I  can  clear  up  before  your 
aunt  comes,  and  tea's  to  get." 

"Aunt,"  said  Olive,  "what  aunt?"  Just 
then  Ray  ran  for  Jane,  holding  his  candy  threat- 
eningly. 

"  Get  away  !  get  away  from  my  clean  clothes," 

cried  the  maid. 

"Then  taste  it,"  he  laughed.     "If  you  don't 

do  it  willingly  we  will  have  to  make  you." 

"Yes,  yes,  we  will,"  cried  Olive,  alive  to  the 

fun   in    a   moment.      Han  r   joined    them   and 

speedily  the  victim  was  surrounded,     i'earful  of 


140 


TRYING   TO   HE   GOOD. 


her  washing  Jane  moved  away  from  tho  basket 
of  clothes,  the  trio  dancing  around  her,  brand- 
ishing their  weapons,  laughing  and  yelling  like 
lunatics. 

"  Taste  it,"  cried  Ray. 

•'  Taste  it,"  cried  Olive,  and  Harry  echoed  the 
refrain,  and  Jane,  laughing  and  scolding,  the 
ludicrousness  of  the  accnc  mollifying  her  anger, 
assented  to  a  '^ingl'^  taste.  This  would  not  do 
now  ;  she  must  take  a  bite  from  each  ;  and  sud- 
denly upon  the  stage  appeared  Herbert,  thrust- 
ing his  head  through  the  door  with,  — 

"  Ray,  Olive,  Aunt  Jessie  and  our  cousins  are 
come."  And  still  brandishing  her  candy  his 
sister  dashed  out  after  him  to  greet  the  new 
comers.  Wiser  Ray  dragged  Harry  to  the 
kitchen  sink  and  doused  him  mercilessly,  then 
hurried  up  the  back  stairs  to  repair  his  own 
toilet. 

"Aunt  Jessie,  dear  Aunt  Jessie,"  cried  Vhe 
sticky  little  girl,  all  unmindful  of  her  plight. 
Her   cousins  started  back   in  horror  from  this 


wretched  r 

and  took  tl 

"  O,  you 

she  cried, 

as  she  hel 

believe  yo 

give  me  a 

Then  C 

and  blush 

the  new 

nice  she  ' 

Aunt  Je; 

little  hea 

she  crept 

cry.     If 

Hcrbc 

when  a 

the  pari 

He  pcej 

bunch  c 

smiled 

inquire^ 


TRYING    TO    IlK    COOP. 


I4> 


^  basket 
■,  brand- 
iny  like 


hoed  the 
ing,  the 
:r  anger, 
1  not  do 
and  sud- 
t,  thriist- 

usins  are 
andy  his 

the  new 
/  to  the 
isly,  then 

his  own 

:ried  Vhe 
;r  plight. 
:rom  this 


wretched  apparition,  but  auntie  sprang  forward 
and  took  the  sorry  little  girl  in  her  arms. 

"O,  you  blessed  child,  how  sweet  you  arc !  " 
she  cried,  laughing  and  kiss.ng  the  sticky  face 
as  she  held  the  morsel  away  f.>r  inspection.  "  I 
believe  you  are  a  child  after  my  own  heart.     Do 

give  me  a  bite. 

Then  Olive  caught  a  glimpse  of  mamma's  face 
and  blushed.  For  thr  first  time  she  remembered 
the  new  dress  and  U.e  injunction  to  sec  how 
nice  she  could  keep  it.  Had  mamma  expected 
Aunt  Jessie  and  meant  to  surprise  her.  The 
little  heart  sank,  and  seizing  an  early  opportunity 
she  crept  away  to  her  own  room  to  have  a  hearty 
cry.     If  only  she  ever  could  be  good. 

Herbert  was  hurrying  through  the  upper  hall 
when  a  sob  caught  his  ear.  It  came  through 
the  partly-closed  door  of  his  sister's  chamber. 
He  pcej^ed  in  and  saw  such  a  disconsolate  little 
bunch  on  the  floor,  all  molasses  and  tears.  He 
smiled  as  he  advanced,  and  kneeling  beside  it, 
inquired  into  the  cause  of  her  trouble. 


142 


TRYIxNG    TO    BE    GOOD. 


"Tn\  always  naughty,  and  Aunt  Jessie  will 
think  I'm  ti'ily  bad  ;  and,  O,  Hcrvie !  can  you 
love  me  any  more?  Mamma  is  grieved,  and  — 
and  I  did  try  to  be  good  for  a  whole  week." 

"  I  know  it,  darling ;  and  you've  been  beau- 
tiful until  to-day.     How  did  this  happen  >  " 

"  It's  all  Ray's  fault.  He  coaxed  me  to  help 
him,"  she  sobbed. 

•'  And  made  your  dear  little  feet  go  downstairs, 
and  your  dear  little  hands  pull  candy,  and  your 
dear  little  mouth  eat  it." 

"  O,  Hcrvie  !  you  know  he  didn't." 

"  I  thought  not.  Then  Olive  is  the  naughty 
one,  after  all,  is  she  ■  " 

"Yes;  some,"  reluctantly;  "but  it  smelled 
awful  nice,  and  —  and  "  — 

"  And  you  took  your  poor  little  nose  where  it 
could  smell  it.  Abused  little  nose,  I  ought  to 
kiss  it." 

Then  Olive  laughed,  as  he  intended  she  should. 

"  Suppose  now,"  he  proposed,  "  I  turn  lady's 
maid   and    help    you    on    with   an^dier   dress. 


be  good 


TRYING   TO    BE   GOOD. 


143 


Jessie  will 
2 !  can  you 
ved,  and  — 
.veek." 
been  bcau- 
)en  ? " 
me  to  help 


downstairs, 
',  and  your 


le  naughty 

it  smelled 

3e  where  it 
I  ought  to 

she  should, 
turn  lady's 
her   dress. 


Auntie  will  miss  you.     Let's  wash  the  face  and 

hands  first." 

It  was  so  funny  to  have  Ilcrvie  washing  her 
face  she  grew  quite  merry,  and  especially  when 
he  tried  to  brush  her  hair. 

"  VoLi  don't  know  how,"  she  laughed. 
"  No ;  but  it  docs  not  need  much.     Just  a  Utile 
brushing  and  a  fresh  ribbon  will  make  it   pre- 
sentable.    Now,  what  dress  shall  we  wear  > " 
"  Any  you  please,  Herbert ;  you  pick  it  out." 
"  Then  we'll  have  this  pretty  blue,  and  a  white 
apron.     There,  you   are   as   sweet  as  a  violet, 
only  we   must  take  off  that  ribbon  and  put  a 
blue  one  on  these  darling  curls,"  kissing  them 
as  he  spoke.     "Now,  precious,  you  will  try  to 
be  good  for  Hervie  ?  " 

"  It's  no  use,  the  wicked's  inside,"  said  the 
child  dolefully. 

"  Yes  ;  i-^ut  God  is  great  and  can  make  us 
good  inside.  That  is  what  Jesus  came  for;  if 
you  ask  him  he  will  make  you  '  beautiful  within.' 
Kneel  down  by  brother  just  a  little  minute." 


144 


TRYING   TO    BE   GOOD. 


Two  little  dimpled  hands  in  two  larger,  boyish 
palms,  one  little  flushed  cheek  pressed  into  a 
warm  neck :  — 

"  Please  forgive  little  sister,  dear  Jesus.  Teach 
her  to  believe  in  your  love.  Make  her  as  beau- 
tiful inside  as  she  is  outside,  and  keep  her  little 
heart  and  hands  and  feet  all  for  your  own  use. 
In  thy  dear  name  we  ask  it." 

"  Now,  Precious,  just  one  kiss.  Mamma  and 
auntie  are  in  the  back  parlor." 

"  What  is  it  about  that  Herbert  of  yours  that 
makes  him  so  uncommon.-'"  Mrs.  Rogers  was 
asking  Mrs.  Gardenell  as  Olive  entered  the 
room. 

"Why,  he's  never  in  a  hurry,  Aunt  Jessie," 
answered  the  little  girl,  advancing  to  the  lady's 
side. 

"  He  seemed  in  a  great  hurry  a  few  minutes 
ago  when  he  ran  off  with  Tom's  letter,"  laughed 
auntie. 

"O,  Auntie!  did  he  have  a  letter,  and — and 
he  never  rea.'  it.     He  came  into  my  room  and 


ii 


TRYING   TO    BE   GOOD. 


US 


rger,  boyish 
:sst;d  into  a 

esus.  Teach 
her  as  beau- 
:cp  her  little 
ur  own  use. 

Mamma  and 

i  yours  that 
Rogers  was 
entered    the 

unt  Jessie," 
to  the  lady's 

few  minutes 
:er,"  laughed 

r,  and  — and 
ny  room  and 


washed  my  face  and   combed  my  hair,  and  — 
and  prayed." 

"Is  it  possible!"  ejaculated  the  lady,  tears 
springing  to  her  eyes.     "  What  a  boy  !  " 

"That's  what  I  meant,  Aunt  Jessie.  He 
seems  in  a  hurry,  and  I  guess  he  is,  but  he 
always  makes  time  to  listen  and  comfort  and 
love  people.     He's  just  the  darlingest  darling." 

•'  I  guess  you  all  are,  my  cherub,"  laughed 
Mrs.  Rogers,  taking  the  little  blue  bundle  in  her 
arms  and  kissing  it  enthusiastically,  "if  you 
do  occasionally  get  too  sweet.  I  always  could 
endure  any  amount  of  sugar,  but  not  a  drop  of 
vinegar.  She  loves  her  brother,  it  seems,  and 
'tis  very  becoming  to  her,  and  so  is  this  blue 
dress  and  white  apron.  Turn  around,  Posey-bud, 
and  let  auntie  tie  your  ribbons.  You  haven't 
learned  to  make  a  good  bow  yet." 

"  You  mustn't,"  replied  Olive  gravely,  gently 
releasing  herself  from  her  aunt's  hands.  "  My 
own  Hervie  tied  it,  and  I  like  it  just  so.  It's 
nice  if  it  isn't,  you  know  ;  'cause  he  loved  me 


it 


146 


TRVING   TO    BE    GOOD. 


while    he  was    tying    it,  and    put    a   kiss    right 
under  the  bow." 


"  We  never  object  to  a  sash  or  bow 
When  Little  lilac  Ribbons  prefers  it  so. 


Loyal  Chick,  I  don't  wonder  Ray  calls  you  Prin- 
cess.    Yensic,  where  did  you  get  her  .■' " 

"  From  Heaven,"  answered  mamma,  smiling. 

"  O,  mamma  !  did  you  .'  "  Olive  came  to  her 
mother's  side  and  lifted  astonished  eyes.  "  How 
could  you  bring  mc  down  here  to  get  wicked, 
and  lose  all  my  pretty  angel-ways  ?  I  never 
knew  before  I  was  so  good.  I  guess  p'r'aps 
that's  why  I  like  to  be  good  some  "  — 

There  Olive  stopped  because  she  must,  for 
Aunt  Jessie  was  smothering  her  with  kisses. 


M 

invade 

Harry 
.,  It- 
have  s 
ing  at 
are  al 
if  onl; 
in  clo^ 
Herbc 
boy. 
aunti( 


L   kiss    right 


CHAPTER  XII. 


it  so. 

lis  you  Prin- 
r  ? 

la,  smiling, 
came  to  her 
r^es.  "  How 
get  wicked, 
5 .''  I  never 
ucss  p'r'aps 

e  must,  for 
1  kisses. 


TRYING    TO   FLV. 

Two  little  feet  braced  well  ap.irt. 

Two  arms  like  bird-poised  wings, 
A  joyous  rain-washed,  upturnt'l  face. 

Lost  to  ail  carnal  things. 

CoRNELLA  Sherman. 

MRS.  ROGERS  loN^ed  litde  people,  and 
early  the  very  morning  after  her  arrival, 
invaded  the  nursery  and  was  having  a  romp  with 
Harry  and  Eddie  when  their  mother  appeared. 

"  It's  just  like  you  and  Herbert  Gardenell  to 
have  such  children,"  she  said  in  greeting,  look- 
ino-  at  little  Eddie  with  coveteous  eyes.  Mine 
are  all  of  the  prosaic  sort.  There's  Elsie,  now, 
if  only  she  can  get  her  head  in  a  book,  she's 
in  clover.  She  will  want  to  study  theology  with 
Herbert,  I  have  not  a  doubt  ;  pity  she  isn't  a 
boy.  Come  here,  my  cherub,  and  tell  your 
auntie  what  you  are  made  of." 

147 


148 


TRYING   TO    FLY. 


\ 


"  Dirt,"  said  Eddie  promptly ;  and  was  won- 
dertully  astonished  when  Mrs.  Rogers  went  off 
into  convulsions  of  laughter. 

"  Dirt,  indeed,  you  precious.  Uncle  George 
has  whole  acres  of  it  that  he  would  give  for  just 
one  darling  baby  boy  like  you." 

Eddie  was  looking  at  her  out  of  very  wide- 
open  eyes.  "God  makes  'em,"  he  said  gravely, 
"  only  p'r'aps  sometimes  he  'ets  de  'ittle  andels 
help  him." 

Then  auntie  knelt  down  before  him  and  put 
her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"Wise  little  baby.  I've  not  a  doubt  God 
made  you.  He  made  your  papa  and  mamma  be- 
fore you.  Now,  catch  me  if  you  can,"  and  off 
she  went  on  a  race,  bound  to  "  dispel  the  dis- 
mals," as  .she  said,  and  keep  that  baby  from  grow- 
ing wings  too  soon. 

In  the  uproar  of  fun  that  followed  the  fond 
aunt  proved  speedily  that  Herbert  Gardenell's 
children  were  substantial  flesh  and  blood,  if  they 
were  "angels." 


Tk 
Rogei 
Germ; 
the  br 

"M 


right 


Harr) 
«<  V 

Garde 

mend 

"C 

younj 

my  1 
stood 
"\ 
"I  b 
ural.' 

«  T 

Itho 
sunn 
Tige 


\ 


TRYING   TO    FLY. 


149 


1  was  won- 
rs  went  off 

cle  George 
ivc  for  just 

very  wide- 
lid  gravely, 
ittle  andels 

im  and  put 

doubt  God 
mamma  be- 
n,"  and  off 
oel  the  dis- 
f rom  grow- 

:d  the  fond 
Gardenell's 
ood,  if  they 


That  afternoon  Mr.  Gardcnell  drove  Mrs. 
Rogers  and  her  daughter  Elsie  to  their  cousin 
Germainc's,  and  Olive  sat  with  her  mother  in 
the  bnrk  parlor,  learning  to  knit. 

"Marnma,"  she  began,  "I  don't  think  it's 
right  to  allow  Mary  Ann  to  talk  to  Eddie  and 
Harry  about  angels  and  Heaven  and  all  that." 

•'  Why  not  right,  daughter  .''"  questioned  Mrs. 
Gardenell,  looking  up  from  a  garment  she  was 
mending. 

"  Oh  !  why,  for  lots  of  reasons.  They're  too 
young,  and  "  —  hesitating. 

—  "  And  what  ?  "  continued  mamma.  "  Will 
my  little  daughter  try  to  make  herself  under- 
stood ? " 

"  Why,  it's  this,"  cried  the  child  impetuously, 
"  I  b'lieve  it  makes  them  die,  Eddie  isn't  nat- 
ural." 

"  How  long  since  ?  Less  than  an  hour  ago 
I  thought  him  the  merriest  baby  that  ever  shook 
sunny  curls  as  he  scampered  with  Harry  and 
Tiger  over  the  lawn." 


ISO 


TRYING    TO    Fl.Y. 


«'0  yes!"  admitted  Olive.  "lie  is  a  funny 
little  fellow.  But  —  but  he  talks  uneartlily  some- 
times, mamma,  and  1  is  eyes  l(v.k  so  big.  and  I 
b'licve  he  loves  Heaven  and  Jesus  more  than  he 
does  MS.  It  just  isn't  right  to  teach  babies  so 
much  ;    they  die  young ;   it  weans   them   from 

earth." 

Mrs.  Gardenell's  beautiful  mouth  parted  to  a 
smile.  She  knew  her  little  daughter  was  quoting 
some  authority. 

"Strange,"  she  said,  "that  all  the  teaching 
you  had  in  that  direction  failed  of  such  results." 

"  Not  a  wing  has  come  out. 
Not  the  weeniest  sprout," 

rhymed  Ray  maliciously  from  behind  the  cur- 
tain, where  he  was  pretending  to  be  reading,  and 
had  been  undiscovered  until  now. 

Mamma  placed  both  hands  to  her  cars  to  shut 
out  the  shocking  rhyme,  at  which  her  boy 
laughed.  B".t  Olive  said  shan  '  y,  "  Vou  needn  t 
make  any  '  comets,'  Ray  liardenell ;  not  a  pin 
feather  of  your  wirgs  has  been  seen  yet." 


\ 


"  Trii 

brother 

failure 

Mam 

droppei 

and  01 

"Til 

isn't  lil 

has    ta 

good  1 

I  told 

out  of 

nebbei 

ittlc  a 

I,  Har 

showe 

01i\ 

seen  ' 


angels 


harm 
Oli' 
from  1 


,  a  funny 
lily  sonie- 
)i<;,  and  I 
e  than  he 
babies  so 
icm   from 

artcd  to  a 
as  quoting 

;  teaching 
:i  results." 


1   the    cur- 
lading,  and 

irs  to  shut 

her    boy 

(HI  needn  t 

not   a  pin 

yet. 


) 


TKVINO   TO    FLY. 


'5' 


"Truth,  my  shining  'comet,'"  retorted  her 
brother.  "  Wc  are  both  notable  e.xamples  of 
failure  in  early  training." 

Mamma  shook  her  head,  and  the  curtain 
dropped  instantly,  shutting  out  the  saucy  face, 
and  Olive  continued  :  — 

"There's   a    difference    in    children.     Kddie 
isn't  like  anybody  else,  and,  mamma,  Mary  Ann 
has    taught    him    that    ang-ls    have   wings,  and 
good  little  boys  turn  to  angels  when  they  die. 
I  told  him  it  wasn't  true,  and  he  looked  at  me 
out  of   his   solemn  eyes  and  said,   *  Mary  Ann 
nebber  tells  ennysing  but  the  truf,  and  I  sectl  a 
ittle  andel  myscf  'wid  davlin'  ittle  wings,  didn't 
I,  Harry  ? '    And  when  I  wouldn't  believe  it,  they 
showed  me  a  picture  Mary  Ann  bought  them." 

Olive  was  very  indignant,  but  mamma  had 
seen  the  innocent  little  print  with  its  winged 
angels  about  the  baby  Saviour,  and  feT-^d  no 
harm  from  its  enjoyment.     She  said  so  now. 

Olive  sighed,  and  a  dismal  groan  answered  her 
from  behind  the  curtain. 


•5^ 


TRYING   TO   FLY. 


"Kosy  don't  think  so,"  slie  said,  determined 

to  treat  her  tormentor  with  the  ,contemi)t    he 

deserved.     "You    sliould    have    seen    how    she 

hjoked  when  she  went  to  tell  the  boys  a  story 

the  other  day,  and   ICddie    said,  '  I   don't    yant 

to    hear    the    ittle    yed    hun,  Wosy ;    tell  luldie 

'bout    tiie   i)itty  antlcls  where   he    id   goin'    by 
and  by." 

"Oh!  little  —  mother  —  v;oman,"  here  inter- 
rupted the  irrepressible,  darting  his  curly  head 
between  the  curtains  again,  "  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  Rosy  that  afternoon.  I  was  an  un- 
seen spectator  of  the  whole  scene." 

"  You  always  arc  where  you're  not  wanted," 
said  his  indignant  sister. 

"  If  this  much-abused  fen^alc  will  permit  me 
to  make  a  few  '  comets  '  upon  that  story  for 
your  special  benefit,  mamma,  I  promise  to  retire 
and  give  her  the  floor  for  the  remainder  of  the 
afternoon. 

"  The  nursery  door  was  ajar  as  I  passed  by, 
and  I  peeped  in.     There  was  little  Ned  making 


\ 


his  plea, 

in  horrc 

him   in, 

going  t( 

"Not 

ran  coh 

my  life 

when  E 

" '  D( 

wings ; 

me.' 

the  chi' 

ov  the  '. 

his  littl 

think  ( 

blocks. 

the  litt 

a  word 

clane  ( 

at   all, 

would 

dapc  \ 


\ 


TKVING    TO    FI.Y. 


153 


determined 
3ntcmi)t  he 
n  liow  she 
oys  a  story 

don't    yant 

tell  luldie 

d   goin'    by 

here  inter- 

cnrly  head 

1  you  could 

was  an  un- 

ot  wanted," 

permit  me 
t  story  for 
isc  to  retire 
ider  of  the 

passed  by, 
Jed  making 


his  plea,  and  Rosy  sittin-  with  both  arms  lifted 
in  horror,  and  mouth  wide  open,  as  if  to  take 
him  in,  and  thus  forever  end  his  chances  of 
going  to  '  dc  andels.' 

"Not  knowing  what  thi^  portended,  my  blood 
ran  cold,  but  I  remained  ready  to  defend  with 
my  life,  if  need  be,  my  brothers,  my  only  sister, 
when  Eddie  continued  thus  :  — 

"<Dere  id  bufid  andels,  Wosy,  wid   cunnin' 
wings  ;  Mary  Ann  showed  them  to  Harry  an' 
me.'     Then    Rosy  burst    forth:    'Heaven   save 
the  chil.lcr  !  did  wan  iver  hear  the  like  ?  to  think 
ov  the  likes  ov  that  babby  wid  sich  notions  under 
his  little  shkull.     Ah  !  me  babby-b'y,  ycr  not  to 
think  of  angels,  and  sich,  but  jist  ycr  play  and 
blocks.     Come  here,'  holding  out  her   arms  to 
the  little  chap, '  come  here,  me  darlint,  and  niver 
a  word  do  you  mind  ov  May'ran  McAloon's.     It's 
clane  crazy  she  bez,  and  not  iver  a  bit  ov  brain 
at   all,  Pt   all.     She   wouldn't   know   an   angel, 
would  she,  if   she  sthumblcd  over  thim  a  mile 
dapc  piled  up  in  the  stratc  ?    Wings,  is  it  ?    In- 


54 


TRYING   TO   FLY. 


dadc  yc'll  l)c  wantin'  jackets  and  pants  fust,  I'll 
be  Ihinkin' '."  And  Ray  burst  into  a  peal  of 
laugbtcr  at  the  rcmonibrancc,  joined  by  his 
audience,  for  Ray  was  a  natural  mimic,  anil  his 
imitation  of  Rosy  was  inimitable. 

"Wliat  did  ICddie  say  to  that?"  asked  the 
amused  lady. 

"  '  Dere  id  andels,  Wosy  ; '  that's  what  he  said, 
mamma,"  rejilied  Olive.  "And  he  sli>)ok  his 
heail  at  her,  and  told  her  Harry  and  he  were 
going  to  see  them  soon  :  '  Idcnt  we,  Harry  .' '  " 

"And  O,  mother,"  again  interrui)ted  Ray, 
unmindful  of  his  late  agreement,  "guess  what 
our  young  professor  of  investigation  answered, 
'  Yes ;  I  would  like  to  go  for  a  little  while  to  see 
what  their  wings  are  made  of,  and  how  they 
fasten  them  on.'  I  beg  your  pardon,  sis.  I'll 
go  before  I  forget  again,"  and  off  ran  the  lad 
without  confessing  that  he  had  spent  two  whole 
afternoons  ii.  the  construction  of  a  pair  of 
wings  for  Harry's  special  benefit,  and  that  they 
were  safely  hidden  away  in  his   bedroom,  ready 


to  be  tri 

charge  tl 

It  was 

clear.     I 

adjusted 

eyes,  thi 

ties  to  t 

"  You 

said  he  ' 

his  own 

Long 

lay  talk: 

daring  i 

whcreb; 

unseen 

sensitiv 

"Wc 

com  par 

later  tv 

secret 

room   I 

her  ekl 


TRYING   TO    FI.V. 


155 


ts  fust.  I'll 

a    pL'iil  of 

:d    by   his 

ic,  ami  his 

asked  the 

lal  ho  said, 

sli>)()k  his 
:1   he  were 
larry  ? ' " 
[)ted    Ray, 
jucss  what 

answered. 
,'hile  to  see 

how  they 
1,  sis.  I'll 
an  the  lad 

two  whole 
a  pair  of 
1  that  they 
oom,  ready 


to  be  tried  on  after  Mary  Ann   had   left   her 
chart;e  that  evening. 

It  was  prayer  meeting  night,  so  the  coast  was 
clear.  Harry  was  dressed,  and  the  wings  were 
adjusted  to  his  shoulders,  fastened  by  hooks  and 
eyes,  the  sewing  on  of  which  ta.xed  Ray's  abili- 
ties to  the  utmost. 

"  ^^)u  can  put  them  on  and  off  as  you  please," 
said  he  to  the  little  fellow,  as  he  carried  him  to 
his  own  room  to  survey  himself  in  the  mirror. 

Long  after  Ray  left  them  alone  the  two  boys 
lay  talking  of  the  wonderful  wings,  and  Harry, 
daring  and  ambitious,  soon  had  a  plan  arranged 
whereby  he  could  try  his  treasures  the  first  time 
unseen  by  any  but  ICddie,  for  Harry  was  very 
sensitive  to  ridicule,  and  he  might  fail. 

••  We  ought  to  ask  little  Cousin  Marion  ;  she's 
company,"  suggested  Eddie;  and  a  few  minutes 
later  two  tiny  white-robed  figures  disclosed  their 
secret  to  the  little  girl  who  slept  in  the  small 
room  opening  from  theirs.  Mrs.  Rogers  and 
her  elder  daughter  had  not  returned  from  Prof. 


'->»J^ 


156 


TRYING   TO    FLY. 


Gcrmaiiic's  yet,  and  this  wcc  one,  scarcely  older 
than  Harry,  was  left  with  the  babies,  in  Mary 
Ann's  charge. 

Marion  asked  so  many  questions  that  Harry 
grew  impatient.  She  was  naturally  a  slow  child. 
Her  mother  declared  that  she  was  born  with  her 
mouth  wide  open  in  astonishment  at  finding  her- 
self in  the  world,  and  had  never  closed  it  since. 
Aunt  Jessie's  pet  name  for  her  youngest  born 
was  at  least  expressive,  —  "speckled  gosling.'" 
I  he  dear  freckled-face,  inquiring  child  was  just 
the  opposite  of  her  mother.  "  Born  not  to 
beauty,  but  greatness,"  that  merry  parent  said, 
and  Mr.  Gardencll  assured  her  that  she  would 
have  reason  to  be  proud  of  Marion  some  day. 
"  She  does  not  ask  questions  for  nothing." 

It  was  beautiful  spring  weather.  Every  day 
now  the  children  were  permitted  to  be  out  as 
much  as  they  pleased,  so  conscientious  little 
Eddie  had  no  questionings  in  his  little  heart  early 
though  it  was  when  they  awoke  next  morning. 
Their  cousin  was  roused,  and  breathlessly  they 


TRYING   TO    FLY. 


157 


scarcely  older 
ibies,  in  Mary 

IS  that  Harry 
y  a  slow  child, 
born  with  her 
at  finding  her- 
osed  it  since. 
'oun<,rest  born 
vied  gosling.'" 
:hild  was  just 
Born  not  to 
^  parent  said, 
lat  slie  would 
on  some  day. 
Dthing." 

Every  day 
to  be  out  as 
ientious  little 
tie  heart  early 
icxt  morning, 
ithlessly  they 


prepared  to  depart.  A  queer-looking  trio  they 
were  as,  hair  uncombed,  faces  unwashed,  and 
clothes  half  on,  carefully  carrying  the  wings 
between  them,  they  crept  downstairs. 

No  one  was  astir.  Even  the  kitchen  maid 
had  not  arisen.  The  door-fastenings  withstood 
their  efforts,  but  they  effected  their  escape 
through  a  window,  and  went  out  to  spy  the  land 
and  the  best  place  for  the  flight.  The  prospect 
looked  dubious  until  they  espied  a  ladder  left 
leaning  against  the  barn. 

"De  andels  did  yant  you  to  fly,  Harry,"  said 
Eddie,  with  child  faith.  "  Dick,  he  fordet  to  put 
away  de  ladder.     De  andels  make  he  fordet." 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  too  high,"  said  cautious  Harry. 
"If  I  should  fall.?" 

"  Den  you'd  be  a  ittle  andcl,  an'  have  truly 
wings." 

•'Only   good   boys   make    angels,"   answered 

Harry. 

"  We's     dood,"    stoutly    affirmed     the     tiny 

brother. 


158 


TRYING    TO    FLY. 


"What  you  s'pose  mamma  would  say  if  she 
knew  ?  "  questioned  the  older  boy,  with  a  con- 
science evidently  not  well  at  ease.  Eddie  stood 
still  ;  the  first  thought  of  any  possible  wrong  in 
the  premeditated  pleasure  had  come. 

"  'Et's  go  back  and  ask  mamma,"  he  said. 

But  Harry  was  bound  to  try  the  experiment. 
"Mamma's  asleep,  and  papa  says  never  to  wake 
her,  Eddie." 

"  Ask  papa,  then  .'  " 

"  He's  out.  I  heard  them  come  for  him  'cause 
some  one's  dying.  He  went  a  long  time  ago." 
Harry  had  not  been  able  to  sleep  for  excitement. 

Eddie  was  much  inclined  to  give  the  whole 
thing  up,  but  Marion  at  last  settled  the  question 
in  her  funny  slow  way  :  — 

"  Would  it  be  wrong  to  do  what  angels 
did?"  This  was  unanswerable,  and  seemed  to 
remove  the  last  objection. 

Slowly  they  mounted  the  ladder  two  at  a  time, 
Eddie  ahead,  and  Harry  with  the  precious  wings 
across  his  back,  behind.     The  barn  had  a  French 


roof ;  th( 
by  dint 
landed,  ai 
descendci 
he  at  las 
on  the  ro 
of  return 
the  wing! 
ently  all 

"  Hadr 
anxiously 
we  yant  '. 

But  H 
persisten 
He  had 
Eddie  th 
marched 

"You 
Eddie,  w 
frightene 
were  pre 
prayer  cc 


TRYING    TO    FLY. 


'59 


Id  say  if  she 
,  with  a  con- 
Eddie  stood 
ble  wrong  in 

ho  said. 
;  experiment, 
ever  to  walce 


3r  him  'cause 
5  time  ago." 
r  excitement, 
e  the  whole 
the  question 

what  angels 
d  seemed  to 

wo  at  a  time, 
ecious  wings 
lad  a  French 


roof ;  the  ladder  hardly  reached  the  top.  But 
by  dint  of  pushing  and  boosting,  Eddie  was 
landed,  and  the  wings  beside  him  ;  then  Harry 
descended  for  Marion.  It  was  after  much  labor 
he  at  last  drew  himself  up,  and  the  three  were 
on  the  roof-top.  No  one  thought  of  the  matter 
of  return  ;  one  was  going  to  fly.  With  difficulty 
tlie  wings  were  attached  to  the  hooks,  but  pres- 
ently all  was  ready. 

"  Hadn't  you  better  pway  first .'  "  asked  Eddie 
anxiously.  "  'Cause  you  know  if  we  id  naughty 
we  yant  Dcdus  to  forgive  us." 

But  Harry  was  older  and  wiser.  He  knew 
persistent  disobedience  held  no  place  for  pardon. 
He  had  been  well  instructed.  He  did  not  tell 
Eddie  this  ;  he  only  said  he  wasn't  afraid,  and 
marched  to  the  edge  of  the  roof. 

"  You  won't  care  if  I  shut  my  eyes  .-•  "  cried 
Eddie,  with  almost  a  sob,  for  he  was  getting 
frightened.  Under  his  tightly-closed  eyes  tears 
were  pressing,  and  through  his  closed  lips  one 
prayer  came  over  and  over,  — 


i6o 


TRYING    TO    FLY. 


"  Dcdus,  Dedus,  help  Harry  to  fly,  and  let  us 
not  be  'icked  " 

Herbert  Gardencll  had  never  gotten  over  his 
olden  habit  of  answering  every  call  of  distress. 
It  was  a  common  thing  for  him  to  be  summoned 
to  the  bedsides  of  the  unknown,  unsaved,  un- 
happy.    From  such  a  scene  he  was  returning 
this  bcautit'id  spring  morning.     How  fresh  every- 
thing seemed  ;  as  if  just  from  the  hand  of  God. 
As   he   turned  from   the   city  to    the   suburbs, 
where  his  own  home   stood,  his   heart  swelled 
with  gratitude.     He  had  just  watched  another 
soul  pass  over  the  silent  river,  just  pointed  a 
dying  one  to   Christ.     How  strange    that    men 
left  these  things  of  greatest  moment  to  the  last 
and  least  fitting  hour  of  life.     It  is  good  to  serve 
God!      How  kind    the  dear  Father   is  to   him! 
His  nest  is  so  full  of  precious,  twittering  life. 
He  is  early,  so  turns  into  the  gate.     No  ;  he  will 
go  and  look  at  the  grape-vine  back  of  the  barn 
that  Dick  spoke  of  yesterday.     "The  Almighty 
often  hangs  great  weights  on  slender  wires." 


What 
bundles 
move, 
shining  ( 
thing  wi 
quick  to 
with  Ha 

"  Ano 
with  a  s 
the  httlc 
fatal.  ^ 
under  tl 
is  taken 
won't  C2 

A  qui 
that  que 
two  str( 
two  que 
ministei 

Harr} 
as  kiss 
then  he 


TRYING    TO    FLY. 


I6l 


and  let  us 

;n  over  his 
of  distress, 
summoned 
nsaved,  un- 
i  returning 
fresh  every- 
md  of  God. 
le   suburbs, 
art  swelled 
led  another 
t   pointed  a 
;    that    men 
t  to  the  last 
ood  to  serve 
is  to   him  ! 
ittering  life. 
No ;  he  will 
of  the  barn 
he  Almighty 
r  wires." 


What  is  that  on  the  roof  ?  What  odd  little 
bundles  are  these !  Jlis  step  quickens,  they 
move.  That  little  crouching  something  with  its 
shining  dome  —  can  it  be  Eddie  .'  But  that  other 
thing  with  hideous  outstretchcL  .vings.^  He  is 
quick  to  think  —  to  understand  ;  he  is  acquainted 
with  Harry's  secret  propensities. 

"  Another  scientific  experiment,"  he  ejaculated 
with  a  smile  and  groan.  He  dares  not  speak  as 
the  little  figures  near  the  edge  ;  a  word  might  be 
fatal.  Stealthily,  but  rapidly,  he  glides  along 
under  the  barn.  The  win^i  are  spread,  the  leap 
is  taken.  He  hears  Eddie's  childish  cry,  "  You 
won't  care  if  I  shut  my  eyes  .-• " 

A  quiver  'mid  air,  a  little  quaking  of  a  heart 
that  questions,  "  If  I  had  not  been  here  ? "  and 
two  strong  arms  envelop  the  little  flyer,  and 
two  queer  kite-like  things  are  flapping  about 
ministerial  ears. 

Harry's  eyes  were  shut,  too,  but  they  opened 
as  kiss  after  kiss  was  pressed  on  his  face,  and 
then  he  was  set  gently  on  his  feet. 


1 62 


TRYING   TO    FI.V. 


"  Id  you  fycd,  Harry  ?  "  piped  the  little  voice 
above. 

"  Yes,  darling,"  answers  a  voice  he  loves  be- 
low. '•  Now,  you  fly.  Just  jump  to  papa,"  and 
unhesitatingly  the  little  fellow  leaped  to  the 
arms  awaiting  him.  Papa  caressed  the  golden 
head  as  he  said,  — 

"  God  sent  me  to  catch  my  little  flyers  just 
in  time.  If  the  dear  Lord  ever  forgot,  or  was 
anything  but  the  good  God  he  is,  mamma  would 
be  weeping  over  one  of  hci  little  boys  now." 

"There's  another  one,  papa,"  said  Harry 
gravely.     "  Cousin  Marion  is  up  there." 

"Little  Marion  !"  in  wonder  ;  then,  "Wait  a 
wee,  darling,  uncle's  coming,"  and  over  the  lad- 
der sped  papa. 

He  had  to  smile  as  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
figure  stretched  out  flat,  face  just  projecting  over 
the  roof,  and  gray  eyes  intently  watching  the 
scene  below. 

"Why  didn't  you  let  him  fly.'"  asked  the 
serenest  of  serene  voices,  as  he  took  her  in  his 


arms, 
ing.     L 
have  lai 

"On 
he  kissc 

Then 
morninj 
evil  doe 
small  ei 
the  broi 
there  w 
and  wit 
tie  boy 
breakfa 

Mar> 
that  "1 
babbies 
whatev 

"My 
Rogers 
great  ri 

"All 


TRYING    TO    FLY. 


163 


c  little  voice 

he  loves  be- 
o  papa,"  and 
iped  to  the 
,   the  golden 

e  flyers  just 
)rgot,  or  was 
amma  would 
ys  now." 

said  Harry 
2rc." 

len,  "Wait  a 
over  the  lad- 
glimpse  of  a 
ojecting  over 
kvatching  the 

"  a.skcd  the 
ok  her  in  his 


arms.  "  Now  we've  had  all  our  trouble  for  noth- 
ing. Uncle  Herbert,  where  do  you  think  he'd 
have  landed  if  you  hadn't  caught  him  ? " 

"On  his  nose,"  responded  uncle,  laughing,  as 
he  kissed  Aunt  Jessie's  "speckled  gosling." 

There  was  always  a  little  fire  in  papa's  study 
mornings,  and  it  was  always  a  "haven  of  rest  to 
evil  doers,"  as  Ray  averred.  There  three  very 
small  evil-doers  had  a  nap  that  morning,  two  on 
the  broad  couch,  and  one  in  the  big  chair,  then 
there  was  a  talk  and  a  nice  prayer  all  around, 
and  with  faces  washed  and  hair  combed,  two  lit- 
tle boys  and  one  little  girl  were  led  into  the 
breakfast  room. 

Mary  Ann  had  just  been  telling  the  mistress 
that  "  not  hide  nor  hair  of  those  two  blessed 
babbies  could  she  find,  or  a  stitch  of  their  clothes, 
whatever  could  have  become  of  them." 

"  My  gosling's  missing,  too,"  commented  Mrs. 
Rogers.  "  But  she's  too  philosophical  to  run 
great  risks  ;  they'll  turn  up." 

"All  women  are  prophets,"  quoted  Mr.  Gar- 


1 64 


TRYING    TO    FLY. 


'.Icncll,  opening;  t'.e  door  lu  cime   to   hear  this 
last,  anu  presenting  his  trio. 

What  became  of  the  wings  remained  i  mys- 
tery to  Ray.  When  questioned  the  httle  fel- 
lows only  shook  their  heads  and  looked  at  eacn 
other  with  laughing  eyes  as  if  they  knew  some- 
thing worth  telling  if  they  would.  And  the 
owners  of  those  heads  knew,  and  those  roguish 
eyes  had  seen  the  wings  go  up  in  flames,  and 
papa  standing  by  cheered  Harry  on  as  uc  ap- 
plied the  match. 


K 


mm 


;o   hear  this 

.ined  i  mys- 
he  little  fi.1- 
oked  at  eacn 

knew  somc- 

And   the 

lose  roguish 

flames,  and 
n  as  iic   ap- 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

AT    DLOOMINGLE. 

We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs.    He  most  lives 
Who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acts  the  best. 

riiiLii'  Jamls  Hailky. 

NOW  that  Aunt  Jnssie  had  come  prepa--^  ■ 
tions  were  soon  completed  for  a  remo'- 
to  Bloomingle,  as  Mr.  Gardenell's  residence  on 
the  b?nks  of  the  Hudson  was  called.  The  place 
was  a  gift  from  Judge  Wilde,  who  gave  it  this 
name  in  honor  of  the  book  Yensie  had  written 
in  the  days  of  her  sorrow. 

This  beautiful  house  was  large  and  roomy, 
surrounded  by  lawns  and  gardens,  in  full  view  of 
the  river  and  close  to  wooded  haunts.  It  had 
come  to  Mr.  Gardenell  before  his  little  girl  was 
born,  and  there  Olive  first  opened  her  blue  eyes 
to  the  world,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  judge. 

That  this  precious  baby,  born  in  the  new  home, 
i6s 


m<:-- 


\ 


166 


AT    ULOOMINC.LE. 


should  be  a  yirl,  tlic  only  c;iil  of  the  hoiischvjlcl, 
was  source;  of  iicvcr-cnding  joy  lo  the  {^ood  gen- 
tleman, and  she  became  his  favorite  among  his 
pastor's  children,  the  place  hitherto  given  to 
Herbert. 

The  boy  was  more  than  willing  to  abdicate  in 
favor  of  his  darling  sister,  and  whether  the  old 
man  or  the  young  lad  took  greatest  pleasure  in 
her  first  speeches  -nd  trembling  attempts  to 
walk,  would  be  hard  to  decide.  They  vied  in 
their  attention  to  the  wee  lady,  and  she  repaid 
their  devotion  with  unstinted  affection. 

In  this  home  were  garnered  the  attractions  of 
many  lands,  the  rarities  not  only  gathered  by 
Herbert  Gardencll  and  his  wife  during  their  trip 
to  Palestine,  but  pictures,  statuettes,  rocks,  gems 
and  shells,  tlie  fruits  of  the  many  sojourns  the 
judge  had  made  in  foreign  countries.  Here  was 
Olive's  grand  piano,  a  gift  from  the  same  kind 
friend  on  her  sixth  birthday,  mamma's  cabinet 
organ  and  papa's  library  of  restful,  helpful  books 
of  travel  and  standard  literature.     Here  Judge 


Wilde  w; 
his  time 

school-b 

their   st 

hurrah  I 

Latin    f 

Hcrv,  : 

your  be 

vacatioi 

Herl: 

hurt  rr 

yourse 

friend. 

he  is  s' 

of  thin 

"N( 

"  Don 

tion  ? 

durini 

"W 

about 


I 


AT   BLOOMINGLE. 


167 


:  liouschoUl, 
10  t^ood  gcn- 
0  among  his 
to   given  to 

T  abdicate  in 
ther  the  old 
t  pleasure  in 
attempts  to 
rhey  vied  in 
i  she  repaid 
ion. 

ittractions  of 
gathered  by 
ing  their  trip 
,  rocks,  gems 
sojourns  the 
;.  Here  was 
le  same  kind 
ma's  cabinet 
nelpful  books 
Here  Judge 


Wilde  was  always  welcome,  and  spent  much  of 

his  time  in  summer. 

"  Farewell,  old  friends,"  cried  Ray,  hustling  his 

school-bcM,ks,  helter-skelter,    into   the    closet  of 

their   study-room.      "Take    a    good    rest,   do; 

hurrah  fur  fun,  and  not  a  K^i^P^c  of  algebra  or 
Latin  for  two  whole  months,  at  least.  I  say, 
Hcrv,  you  needn't  smuggle  that  Horace  into 
your  box  of  specials  ;  papa  forbids  study  during 

vacation." 

Herbert  looked  up  with  a  smile.  "  I  shall  not 
hurt  myself,  old  fellow,  be  sure,  any  more  than 
yourself.  I  asked  permission  to  carry  this  old 
friend.  It  will  be  just  sport  studying  with  papa, 
he  is  such  a  delightful  teacher  and  knows  no  end 

of  things." 

"  No  books  !  "  Elsie  Rogers  looked  her  horror. 
"Don't  your  father  allow  any  study  during  vaca- 
tion ?  I  should  think  you'd  lose  all  you  gained 
during  school  time." 

•<  Which  shows  how  much  you  do  not  know 
about   the    Rev.    Herbert   Gardenell,"   laughed 


168 


AT    ni.OOMINfiLE. 


Ray.  "Wait  a  wcc.  Don't  tell  her,  Ilcrv;  let 
her  find  out  as  it  comes.  You  sec,  cousin  mine, 
our  papa  is  himself  and  nobody  elso,  and  has  his 
ways  of  doing  things." 

Which,  indeed.  Miss  Elsie  found  out  to  her 
entire  satisfaction.  No  study?  No,  not  a  bit, 
but  such  delightful  additions  to  knowledge  with- 
out a  seeming  effort  at  attainnicnt. 

"O  Ray,  you  are  a  favored  boy!"  said  this 
young  miss  smiling,  as,  coming  from  a  chemical 
experiment  just  finished  in  Mr.  Gardenell's 
laboratory  one  day,  this  graceless  lad,  making  a 
grimace,  said  quizzically  :  "  No  study  }  t  should 
think  you'd  forget  all  you  ever  didn't  know. " 

"  I  tell  you,  coz,"  he  made  answer  to  her  re- 
mark, "  you're  only  beginning  to  get  the  first 
glimp'^c.  You  wait.  There  arc  oceans,  mount- 
ains, cou.' tries,  planets  left  yet  to  explore.  You 
want  to  hear  father  read  Shakespeare,  so  that 
even  I  get  charmed  with  the  musty  old  chap; 
then  there  arc  the  magazines,  and  Mark  Twain's 
latest.     I  shouldn't  know  anything  if  it  wasn't 


for  the  ' 

get  all  tl 
fellows  : 
tions  ju: 
it  is  a  fi 
We'll  ha 
tower  tc 
feeds  up 
and  of  ( 
let  his 
meal." 

Well, 

flowers, 

Here   v 

sketchii 

riding 

amount 

vulsed  1 

some  b; 

a  sly  tc 

ke''^hic 

coughs 


AT    Ill.OOMINGLR. 


169 


,  Hcrv ;  let 
ousin  mine, 
and  has  his 

out  to  her 
,  not  a  bit, 
'ledge  vvith- 

"  said  this 

a  chemical 

Gardcncll's 

1,  making  a 


1  should 


:  know." 
r  to  her  re- 
let the  first 
ans,  mount- 
plorc.  You 
are,  so  that 
y  old  chap ; 
ark  Twain's 
if  it  wasn't 


for  the  •  no  study '  months  at  IMoominglc.  I 
get  all  the  material  with  which  I  astonish  the 
fellows  at  school  over  my  brilliant  composi- 
tions just  from  this  source,  and  the  best  of 
it  is  a  fellow  hasn't  to  cram  for  a  word  of  it. 
We'll  have  a  clear  night  soon  and  go  up  in  the 
tower  to  get  acquainted  with  the  stars.  Papa 
feeds  up  every  summer  while  at  the  old  '  Hloom,' 
and  of  course  it  wouldn't  do  for  a  minister  to 
let  his  children  starve  while  he   enjoys  a  full 

meal." 

Well,  it  was  delightful  ;  the  long  rambles  for 
flowers,    the   examination    of    rock    specimens. 
Here   was   geology,  astronomy,  botany,  music, 
sketching,  reading,  and   all    intermingled   with 
riding   and    boating    parties,   and    the    largest 
amount  of   innocent   fun.     Mr.  Gardenell   con- 
vulsed his  audience  at  times  with  laughter  over 
some  bit  of  comic  literature,  and  elicited  many 
a  sly  tear  at  others,  wiped  on  half-drawn  hand- 
ker-hiefs    with     averted     faces    and     incipient 
coui^hs.     He  never  appeared  anywhere  without 


170 


AT    BLOOMINGLE. 


a  trio  of  children  at  his  heels,  and  led  them  into 
trials  of  speed  which  taxed  the  fleetest-footed  of 
their  number,  and  trials  of  skill  and  strength 
that  Liought  out  any  amount  of  ingenuity  beside 
health  and  amusement.  Elsie  Ro,  rs  was  de- 
voted to  him.  Marion  was  ever  at  his  side,  and 
all  deplored  his  occasional  calls  to  the  city. 

"  I  don't  wonder  Herbert  keeps  young," 
laughed  Mrs.  Rogers,  looking  from  the  window 
one  morning  as  he  played  tag  with  the  children. 
"There,  if  Olive  hasn't  coaxed  the  judge  into 
the  sport.  I  do  wish  George  and  Fred  were 
here." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Mrs.  Gardencll  heartily, 
drawing  her  chair  nearer  the  open  window, 
through  which  floated  the  merry  voices.  "  Do 
tell  me  about  Fred ;  she  is  the  only  one  of  your 
children  I  have  not  seen  yet.  We  have  been 
too  busy  to  have  a  real  good  long  chat  since  you 
came.  Suppose  we  take  it  now.  Tell  me  about 
all  your  girls." 

"Thev're  beautiful,"  said  their  mother,  in  her 


AT    BLOOMINGLE. 


171 


1  them  into 
st-footcd  of 
id  strength 
uiity  beside 
rs  was  de- 
is  side,  and 
c  city. 
OS    young," 
the  window 
ic  children, 
judge  into 
Fred  were 

.'11  heartily, 
;n  window, 
liccs.  "  Do 
one  of  your 
have  been 
it  since  you 
tV.  me  about 

)ther,  in  her 


sprightly  way,  "  only  they  are  all  girls,"  dolefully. 
"  Why  couldn't  I  have  had  one  boy  >  I  tell  you, 
Ycnsie,  George  and  I  coveted  your  Herbert  when 
he  was  with  us  last  summer.  It  was  hard  to  give 
him  up  again.  We  missed  the  fun  he  and  Tom 
Burton  made  in  the  house.  Indeed  they  were 
inseparables.  Mrs.  Burton  said  she  hardly  real- 
ized she  had  a  boy  while  Herbert  was  there,  hers 
was  home  so  little  ;  and  he  was  inconsolable 
after  Herbert  left.  George  used  to  join  tb.cir 
romps,  and,  I  too,  for  that  matter.  He  was  a 
real  godsend.  Mabel  had  just  married  and 
gone,  and  we  felt  as  if  we  had  buried  some  one 
until  your  boy  came.  He  cheered  things  won- 
derfully.    He  is  his  father's  self  over  again. 

"  As  to  Fred,  she  does  her  best,  and  is  the  ne.xt 
best  thing  to  a  boy.  I  still  make  her  part  her 
hair  on  one  side,  and  keep  it  short.  I'm  bound 
to  come  as  near  as  I  can  to  the  missing  article. 
George  says  she  is  as  good  as  any  boy  in  the 
hay-field,  but  you  need  not  looked  dis^rcsised,  she 
is  low-voiced  and  womanly,  Ycnsie.     She  spent 


SA 


172 


AT   BLOOMINGLE. 


last  winter  with  Lois,  at  Chicago.  Being  the 
only  boy,  we  missed  her,  but  she  needed  a 
change,  she  is  such  a  home-body.  Lois  has 
everything  nice,  is  happy  with  her  husband,  and 
has  a  girl-baby.  So,  you  see,  I  am  grandma, 
and  should  be  proud  enough  if  it  were  to  a 
grandson.  How  time  flies  !  Imagine  me  with  a 
daughter  twenty-five  years  old.  I  must  be  old, 
though  I  don't  feel  that  I  am.  If  your  first 
Herbert  had  lived,  darling,  he  would  be  a  man 
now.     Do  you  realize  it .'' " 

"  No,"  answered  Mrs.  Gardenell,  a  little  sadly. 
Any  reference  to  her  lost  darlings  moved  iier 
heart.  They  had  lacked  so  much,  and  there  — 
she  looked  out  at  them  with  tear-filled  eyes,  — 
how  full  their  cup, 

"  Neither  do  I,"  continued  Mrs.  Rogers,  un- 
mindful of  her  friend's  agitation.  "  Fact  is,  one 
needn't  grow  old  because  the  years  multiply. 
One  can't  stop  them,  but  they  need  have  noth- 
ing in  the  world  to  do  with  them  ;  simply  ignore 
them  and  keep   the    heart   fresh.     Age   begins 


AT    BLOOMINGLE. 


173 


Being  the 

needed   a 

Lois   has 

isband,  and 

grandma, 

were   to   a 

•  mo  with  a 

list  be  old, 

your  first 

be  a  man 

little  sadly, 
moved  iier 
id  there  — 
ed  eyes,  — 

Rogers,  im- 
pact is,  one 
s  multiply, 
have  noth- 
nply  ignore 
\ge   begins 


within  and  works  out  ;  I  haven't  the  least  bit  of 
a  wrinkle  on  my  he  irt.  I  am  astonished,  Yensie  ; 
I  did  expect  to  see  you  somewhat  changed,  but 
you  are  your  olden  self,  hai)py  and  care-free  as 
the  birds,  and  as  nuisic-fuU.  Your  voice  is  not 
broken,  and  Olive  inherits  that  gift  of  yours, 
lucky  chick!  I  see  you  find  time  to  be  inter- 
ested in  everything,  and  yet,  judging  from  the 
week  I  spent  with  you  in  town,  you  have  great 
and  continued  demands  on  your  strength.  The 
position  of  pastor's  wife,  in  your  case,  at  least, 
seems  to  be  no  sinecure." 

Mrs.  Gardenell  smiled.  "  Yes  ;  I  have  both 
hands  full,  and  my  heart  must  have  wonderful 
stretching  capacity  to  hold  so  much,  for  it  never 
feels  strained;  but  I  have  such  a  guardian  and 
helper,  Jessie.  So  few  are  blest  as  I,"  tears 
again  springing  to  her  eyes.  "  I  am  watched  so 
constantly  by  such  loving  eyes  !  It  is  wonderful, 
and  to  me  ever  suggestive  of  those  never-weary 
Eves  above,  the  jealous  care  with  which  my  hus- 
band surrounds  me.     He  always  knows  when  I 


1/4 


AT    BLOOMINGLE. 


have  (lone  just  enough,  when  rest  is  needed,  and 
he  assures  it,  too,  by  warding  off  all  that  comes 
near.  lie  has  such  a  way  of  compelling  without 
compulsion,  of  shielding  without  seeming  effort. 
He  stands  like  some  natural  bulw  rk  between 
me  and  every  hardship,  beating  back  the  incom- 
ing waves  by  his  very  position.  Yet  I  share  all 
his  labors  and  thoughts  and  burdens.  I  could 
not  be  denied  th.at  privilege,  but  it  is  the  light 
end  of  the  cross  I  carry  ;  the  end  that  lifts  one 
into  the  joy  of  fellowship,  without  the  pangs  of 
martyrdom.  I  wish  he  would  spare  himself  as 
he  does  me." 

"  And  who  arc  yon,  if  not  the  dearest  and 
best  part  of  himself  ? "  asked  a  cheerful,  manly 
voice  beside  her,  for  Mr.  Gardcnell  had  entered 
unperceivcd,  and  heard  her  closing  words. 
"  Ennie  dear,"  laying  a  fond  '..and  on  her  head, 
"  I  need  no  sparing.  It  is  glorious,  just  the 
privilege  of  work,  hard  work,  for  the  Master.  I 
never  suffer.  Every  hour  of  anxiety  and  toil  for 
his  sake  is  its  own  exceeding  great  reward.      I 


seeni  to 

comes  so 

tinually  z 

within  m 

look  at  1 

say  noth 

earth,    n' 

seventee 

tion,  rer 

love  to  I 

through 

Now 

tears  we 

up  to  m 

fondly  t 

"  Her 

tears,  " 

your  wi: 

I'm  glai 

"So 

and  adc 

would 


iccdcd,  and 
that  comes 
ini;' without 
mn'^  effort, 
k  between 
the  incom- 
I  share  all 
3.  I  could 
s  the  light 
It  lifts  one 
e  pangs  of 
himself  as 

earcst  and 
rful,  manly 
ad  entered 
ing  words. 
I  her  head, 
s,  just  the 
Master.  I 
anc'  toil  for 
reward.     I 


Ai    PLCiOMINGLE. 


175 


\ 


seen,  to  'lave  pcrennia^  springs  within,  and  He 
comes  so  nigh,  lifts  cross   and   Nearer    so  con- 
tinually and  consciously,  lives  so  beside,  around, 
within  me,  I  know  no  need.     Then,  sister  Jessie, 
look  at  my  church,  my  home,  my  childnui,  to 
say  nothing  of  this  best,  this  sweetest  gift  of 
earth,    my    wife.     I've    known    no    need    these 
seventeen  years,  no  need  but  deeper  consecra- 
tion, renewed    thankfulness,  and  purer,  greater 
love  to  Love  divine  that  by  strange  paths  led  me 
through  self-renunciation  to  unutterable  joy." 

Now  Jessie  was  crying  softly,  and  Yensic's 
tears  were  dropping  even  while  her  eyes  shone 
up  to  meet  his  love,  and  while  her  lips  pressed 
fondly  the  dear  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  Herbert  Gardcnell,"  said  Jessie,  through  her 
tears,  "  only  one  woman  on  earth  was  fit  to  be 
your  wife  ;  such  devotion  would  spoil  most  of  us. 
I'm  glad  you've  got  her." 

"  So  am  I,"  responded  the  gentleman  heartily; 
and  added  playfully,  "What  sort  of  Providence 
would  you  make,  :    •  onder,  if  you  fitted  more 


176 


AT    I5L00M1NGLE. 


than  one  woman  for  one  man  ?  I  assure  you, 
Jessie,  much  of  what  we  ministers  are  called 
upon  to  do  in  that  line  is  simply  carpentry  ;  job 
work  that  cannot  possibly  be  pleasing  to  the 
Master  Builder." 

How  time  flew  at  Bloomingle.  A  month! 
Could  it  be  possible  ?  VV^hcrc  had  the  days  gone  ? 
Another,  "and  not  a  scrape  worth  mentioning," 
as  Ray  declared  ;  while  Olive  added,  "  W'c  never 
do  get  into  trouble  when  we  have  papa  to  play 
with.  It's  easy  to  be  good  with  him.  Aunt 
Jessie,  don't  you  s'pose  that's  the  reason  that 
folks  are  always  good  in  Heaven,  'cause  Jesus 
looks  at  them  and  plays  with  them  ?  I  s'pect 
He  is  like  my  papa,  some." 

"  I  s'pose  you're  a  wee  darling,  and  I  s'pect 
you  know  more  about  Heaven  than  I  do," 
answered  Aunt  Jessie  enthusiastically,  kissing 
tlic  mouth  that  questioned. 

Vacation  was  really  done.  School  would 
commence  next  week.  Papa  and  the  boys 
always   went   back    to    the    city   then,  though 


{ 


mamma 
mained 
occasioi 
over  th( 

"It's 
begin  c 
Why,  S 
months, 

But 
Jessie, 
her  to  r 
at  Blooi 
Fred  vv( 
make  a 
course, 
tearful  t 
soon  set 
decided 
not  rem 

"  Alt( 
summer 
say  one 


AT    DLOOMINGLE. 


^17 


assure  you, 
3  arc  called 
pcntry  ;  job 
sing  to  the 

A  month  ! 
3  days  gone  ? 
iicntioning," 

"  \Vc  never 
)apa  to  play 
lihii.  Aunt 
reason  that 
cause  Jesus 
1  ?     I  s'pect 

md  I  s'pect 
ban  I  do," 
ally,  kissing 

;hool  would 
.1  the  boys 
hen,  though 


K 


mamma  and  the  little  people  sometimes  re- 
mained a  while  longer,  the  boys  running  up 
occasionully  on  Friday  afternoon,  and  stopping 
over  the  Sabbath. 

"It's  a  shame,"  Ray  spluttered;  "school  to 
begin  on  the  very  best  month  of  the  year. 
Why,  September  and  October  are  the  crowning 
months,  as  papa  says." 

But  inexorable  is  Fate,  and  so  was  Aunt 
Jessie.  In  vain  Mr.  Gardenell  tried  to  pe  raa  * 
her  to  remain  a  few  weeks  longer  with  hib  ■.-■■:-'. 
at  Bloomingle.  Her  time  was  up.  George  and 
Fred  would  begin  to  expect  her,  and  she  must 
make  a  couple  of  short  visits  on  her  homeward 
course.  So  the  pleasant  house  received  the 
tearful  farewells  of  the  children,  and  they  were 
soon  settled  again  in  their  city  home,  for  mamma 
decided  to  go  with  them,  as  Aunt  Jessie  could 
not  remain. 

"Altogether,  it  has  been  such  a  delightful 
summer,"  Elsie  said.  "  It  would  be  a  shame  to 
say  one  regretful  word  to  mar  it."     So  Ray,  who 


! 


178 


AT    lU.OOMINiJLE. 


had  been  her  devoted  cavalier  for  the  ivccks 
pas'  to  the  great  amusement  of  the  older  part 
of  the  company,  tried  hard  t(^  stifle  all  com- 
plaints, at  least  in  her  presence. 

"  I':.\Lremes  meet,"  laughed  Mrs.  Ro;j;crs,  as 
h  r  nearly  eighteen-year-old  daughter,  and  the 
not  quite  fourteen-year-old  lad,  paced  the  back 
veranda,  arm  in  arm,  the  night  before  she  was 
to  start  westward, 

IMr.  ("lardencD  smiled.  "What  shall  I  do 
with  him  when  he  is  twenty  .?  "  he  asked. 

"  Send  him  to  me  if  he  is  too  much  for  you. 
I  prophesy  you  will  be  proud  of  that  boy  some 
day.  Herbert,  what  will  you  take  for  one  of 
your  boys  ? " 

"  Not  in  a  mood  for  money-making  to-night,'* 
responded  the  gentleman,  his  eye  upon  his  son's 
tell-tale  face.  "God  bless  that  dear  little 
woman,"  he  continued  presently.  "Jessie,  dear 
sister,  the  world  needs  women  as  well  as  men. 
God  gives  you  one  crop  to  raise  and  me 
another,    both    for    the    kingdom.       Some    day 


I 


kv>-'- 


AT    m.noMINGI.E. 


1/9 


r  the  weeks 
ic  older  part 
iflc    all  com- 

;.  Ro;j;ers,  as 
iter,  and  the 
:cd  the  back 
fore  she  was 

t    shall    I   do 
le  asked. 
Rich  for  you. 
hat  boy  some 
e  for   one   of 

ing  to-night,'* 

ipon  his  son's 

t    dear     little 

"  Jessie,  dear 

well  as  men. 

aisc    and    me 

Some    day 


some  man  will  bless  you  for  that  Christian 
daughter." 

"Come  here,  my  speckled  gosling,"  called 
Mrs.  Rogers  to  her  small  daugh.ter,  passing  by, 
at  this  moment,  with  Olive.  "Conic  here. 
Uncle  Herbert  (.'vcs  me  a  liulc  ImiK',  and  I 
want  to  kiss  you.  f  wonder  am  I  growing  pioud  .' 
I  don't  believe  you  are  (|uite  as  speckled  as  you 
used  to  be.  Kither  that,  or  Olive  has  taken 
on  some  tan.  Herbert,  since  your  crop  is  to  be 
boys,  suppose  I  take  your  girl  along  with  me.'" 

For  answer  Mr.  Gardenell  stooped  and  opened 
his  arms,  and,  as  his  one  choice  girlie  sprang 
into  them,  he  folded  )ier  to  his  bosom  and 
chanted  softly,  as  he  walked  up  and  down,  a 
verse  of  the  twenty-third  psalm,  his  wife  was 
wont  to  sing,  "  My  cup  runneth  over,  runneth 
over  ;  "  and  Aunt  Jessie  sluu  her  eyes  and  list- 
ened with  a  rapt  face,  as  tlic  little  girl's  voice 
caught  up  the  strain,  "  Surely  goodness  and 
mercy  shall  follow  me,  shall  follow  me  all  the 
days  of  my  life." 


CHArXKR   XIV. 


IN    TlUaC    WE   TKUST. 


Silence  I  Silence!  Silence!—  I'ray  I 

Kvcry  moment  is  an  hour, 
Minutes  long  as  weary  years. 

Henry  Baieman. 


I  WOULDN'T  go,  Ray." 
"  But  I've  promised." 
"  A  promise  to  do  wrong  ought  to  be  broken. 
Tell  the  boys,  in  thinking  it  over,  you  have  de- 
cidvd  it's  not  the  thing  to  disobey  father.     Be 
manly  about  it." 

"  Oh  !  but  you  sec  I  haven't  so  decided  ;  my 
brother  bar  done  that  for  me.  Besides,  I'm  to 
furnish  half  the  cash  for  the  supper.  They'll 
think  I'm  dead  broke  or  growing  stingy." 

"You  stingy!"  Herbert  laughed.  "Give 
them  your  share  of  the  money,  then  ;  that  will 

iSo 


stop  all 

we  are 

strictly 

his  per 

"  Wl 

Any  01 

Harry. 

since  J 

Her 

"01 

fellow 

quire  ? 

older 

I'm  ta 

if  he 

two." 

"W 

"O 

a  tele 

and  tl 

as  if  ] 

a  chic 


IN   Tlir.E   WE   TKUST. 


l8l 


\  1  EMAN. 


!  broken, 
have  de- 
her.     Be 

dec!  ;  my 

>s,  I'm  to 

They'll 

"  Give 
that  will 


stop  all  that  sort  of  supposition,     liut  don't  go  ; 

we  are  not  at  Bloomingle  now,  and  father  has 

strictly  forbidden  us  to  go  on  the  water  without 

his  permission." 

"  What  docs  father  take   me  for,  I  wonder. 

Any  one  would  think  I  was  a  little  shaver  like 
Harry.  I'm  going,  anyway.  It's  been  dismal 
since  Aunt  Jess  took  Elsie  off." 

Herbert  smdcd  and  lifted  his  eyebrows. 
«  Oh  !  you  needn't  look  so  knowing.  Can't  a 
fellow  like  his  own  cousin,  I'd  be  happy  to  in- 
quire ?  She's  just  the  thing  if  she  is  four  years 
older  than  I  am.  Four  years  aren't  many,  and 
I'm  taller  than  she  is  already.  I  asked  father 
if  he  didn't  think  I  looked    the   older   of   the 

two." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  he  looked  through  his  hand  as  if  it  was 
a  telescope,  and  said  '  some,'  just  as  Ol  does, 
and  then  caught  me  under  the  arms  and  laughed 
as  if  I  had  been  a  standing  joke.  I  say  I'm  not 
a  chicken,  why  shouldn't  I  like  a  girl  or  row  a 


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IN    TIIEE   WE   TRUST. 

boat.  I  wonder.  I  can  manage  an  oar.  When 
a  fellow's  fourteen  he  ought  to  have  some  liberty." 
..  For  shame,  Ray,  when  father  lets  us  do 
every  possible  thing  we  ask  that  isn't  positively 
wrong  or  dangerous.  You  know  there  isn't  one 
of  you  could  mange  a  boat  under  difficulties." 

"  Who's  going  to  have  difficulties  ?  You'd 
better  tell  Jonas  Cowles  he  can't  manage  a  boat. 
Why,  he's  a  splendid  hand.  His  father  isn't 
afraid  to  trust  him  on  the  water  anywhere." 

'« Then  he  has  his  father's  permission,"  said 
Herbert   quietly,   quite    sure   to   the   contrary. 
Jonas  Cowles  was  a  boy  he  did  not  like,  and  it 
troubled  him  to  have  Ray  with  him  so  much. 
<■  Suppose  you  follow  his  example  in  that  respect. 
Then  if  father  says  No,  his  mouth  is  shut." 
"  And  he'd  be  sure  to  say  No." 
"  He  might  offer  to  accompany  you." 
«  And  spoil  the  boys'  fun.     You  see  they  are 

in  for  sport." 

"  When  did  father  ever  spoil  fun,  I'd  like  to 

know  ? " 


ii 


■*^i"-&>s^»«' 


■i,(ijj.^t.r;yV?'?»'V'  „, 


an  oar.  When 
ve  some  liberty." 
thcr  lets  us  do 
t  isn't  positively 
w  there  isn't  one 
cr  difficulties." 

ficulties  .'     You'd 

't  manage  a  boat. 
His  father  isn't 

r  anywhere." 

permission,"  said 

to   the   contrary. 

d  not  like,  and  it 

ith  hin^  so  much. 

)lc  in  that  respect. 

uth  is  shut." 

o. 

,ny  you." 

You  see  they  are 

lil  fun,  I'd  like  to 


IN   THEE   WE   TRUST. 


183 


"  Well,  they'd  think  so ;  Cowles  wouldn't 
budge.  Now,  Herv,  remember  this  is  an  out- 
and-out  secret.  1  had  no  business  to  tell  you, 
only  —  only  I  don't  feel  right,  and  that's  a  fact, 
in  slying  off  without  a  word." 

"  Ray,  honor  bright,  you  know  the  whole  thing 
is  wrong." 

"  Well,  no,"  slowly  ;  "  not  in  itself.  How 
can  an  innocent  sail  on  the  river  be  wrong  .'  The 
only  thing  crooked  is  not  telling  father  about  it, 
and  that's  out  of  the  question,  as  you  see." 

Herbert  did  not  see,  neither  did  he  reply  ;  in- 
stead he  pursed  up  his  brows  and  looked  at  his 
brother  out  of  troubled  eyes. 

"  There,  don't  you  come  father  with  your  '  Look 
of  Fate,'  as  Ol  calls  it,"  said  Ray  irritably.  "  I 
declare,  you're  the  image  of  him,  and  quite  as 
old  ;  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  take  orders. 
It's  no  use,"  waxing  wrathy,  "I'm  not  going  to  be 
pinned  down  or  kept  from  the  water.  I'm  bound 
to  learn  to  manage  a  boat  and  command  one, 
too,  if  I  have  to  run  away  for  my  chance." 


V  V  'v«-«  '  -ai^'i  |;  '^yi- 


%\ 


184 


IN   THEE    WE   TRUST. 


"  And  break  mamma's  heart." 

..  Pooh !  Little  mother-woman  isn't  so  soft  as 
all  that.  She'd  yield  if  she  thought  I  was  called 
to  it."  with  a  contemptuous  curl  of  the  lip.  "  She 
can  do  anything  when  she  wills.  What  a  splen- 
did oar  she  is.  anyway.  I  was  proud  of  her  that 
day  Judge  Wilde  and  Aunt  Jess  went  with  us 
for  a  boat-ride.     Such  little  hands  to  make  such 

neat  strokes." 

.'  Yes  ;  and  father  said  you  were  doing  famously 
that  day',  too.  Oh !  he  intends  you  shall  learn 
and  have  all  you  want  of  it.  but  he  has  been 
pressed  with  care  lately,  and  can't  find  time  for 
boating.     He's  as  fond  of  it  as  any  of  us." 

..But  a  fellow  can't  wait  forever.  I  was  cut 
out  for  a  sailor  ;  I'm  finding  my  calling,  and  I'll 
be  one  some  of  these  days,  you'll  see.  I'll  have 
a  vessel  of  my  own  -a  beauty-  and  take  you  all 
around  the  world.  You  needn't  look  at  me  out 
of  such  eyes  ;  I  kngw  what  you're  thinking  ;  but 
mamma  will  sail  across  the  briny  deep  m  my 
own  bark  yet.  my  hearty.     Anybody'd  think,  the 


^    ^.W*».<' 


UST. 


t' 


nan  isn't  so  soft  as 
lought  I  was  called 
irlofthelip.  "She 
Us.  What  a  splen- 
is  proud  of  her  that 
Jess  went  with  us 
bands  to  make  such 

were  doing  famously 
nds  you  shall  learn 
it,  but  he  has  been 
3  can't  find  time  for 

as  any  of  us." 

forever.  I  was  cut 
T  my  calling,  and  I'll 
you'll  see.  I'll  have 
jty_  and  take  you  all 
;edn't  look  at  me  out 
you're  thinking  ;  but 
le  briny  deep  in  my 
Anybody'd  think,  the 


IN    THEE   WE   TRUST. 


1S5 


way  you  talk,  that  little  mother  was  a  bundle  of 
nerves.      Who  was   it  quieted  that  crazy  man 
who  escaped  from  the  asylum  and  invaded  the 
woman's  prayer  meeting  that  day  ?    Why,  he 
was  like  an   infant   in  her  hands,  and  walked 
back  to  his  keepers  lamb-like.     And  who  is  it 
hushes  that  crowd  of  vagabonds  at  the  Mission 
by  just  lifting  her  hand  and  opening  her  mouth 
to  sing  ?     She  is  never  afraid  of  the  worst  man 
or  woman  among  them,  Mapes  says.     Oh!  our 
mamma  is  a  wonderful  little  woman,"  cried  Ray, 
getting  warm  over  his  favorite  theme,  "and  I'd 
like    to   see    the    person   who  would    deny   it 

or     — 

"That  her  son  is  the  sweetest  flatterer  in  the 

world,"  said  a  tender  voice,  while  two  arms  en- 
circled the  boy's  neck. 

.'Mamma,  you  here!"  rising,  and  flushing 
crimson.  What  might  she  not  have  overheard  ? 
"  How  long  have  you  been  listening  to  us  ?  " 

.'  Fie  !  my  son,  I  thought  mamma  was  a  won- 
derful woman,  and  now  you  suspect  her  of  act- 


■mm 


...^  '■■-•.'■• 


1 86 


IN    THEE   WE   TRUST. 


ing  the  spy  on  her  boys ;  as  if  that  was  ever 
necessary.  I  wanted  something  from  this  closet 
and  just  stepped  along  in  time  to  hear  your 
culogium.  You  must  bo^h  be  in  earnest  dis- 
cussion not  to  hear  the  door  open.     What  is  the 

subject  up?" 

"  Mamma,"  answered  Ray,  putting  both  arms 
about  her,  and  thus  hiding  his  face  from  view, 
"our  dear  mamma,"  shaking  his  head  furtive^ 
at  Herbert,  finger  on  his  lips.     His  brother  un- 
derstood this  was  to  enjoin  silence  on  their  late 
conversation,  and  he  motioned  back  that  his  lips 
were  sealed  only  on  one  condition,  the  giving 
up  of  the  whole  project.     Ray  nodded  a  hasty 
assent,  and  mamma,  unconscious  of  this  by-play, 
having  opened  the  closet  door  to  which  Ray  had 
conducted  her.  laughed  as  she  made  answer  from 
its  depths,  "  Surely  there  can  be  no  difference 
of  opinion  between  Numbers  One  and  Two  on 
such  a  theme  ;  two.  such  loyal  subjects  queen 
never  had  before." 

<•  We  will  always  be  loyal,"  Herbert  said,  kiss- 


^^™*-33Bfc*- -  - 


■:a'M':'::^7iii 


lUST. 

if  that  was  ever 
rig  from  this  closet 
iiiie  to  hear  your 
be  in  earnest  dis- 
pen.     What  is  the 

putting  both  arms 
lis  face  from  view, 
his  head  furtive'y 
.  His  brother  un- 
lilence  on  their  late 
d  back  that  his  lips 
idition,  the  giving 
ay  nodded  a  hasty 
ous  of  this  by-play, 
•  to  which  Ray  had 
:  made  answer  from 
1  be  no  difference 
(  One  and  Two  on 
yal  subjects  queen 

Herbert  said,  kiss- 


IN    THEE    WE   TRUST. 


187 


ing  her  as  he  helped  lift  the  bundle  she  sought 
from  an  upper  shelf.     "  Loyal  till  death." 

"  And  after,"  laughed  Ray,  springing  to  take 
the  bundle  and  carry  it  to  the  sitting-room,  thus 
avoiding  further  talk  with  his  brother. 

Herbert  was  not  troubled  as  the  majority  of 
boys  are,  with  scruples  about  "telling"  on  his 
brother.  If  mischief  was  in  the  air  and  he  could 
prevent  it  he  was  bound  to  do  so.  Yet  he  was 
not  a  tell-tale,  and  Ray  would  have  been  first  to 
knock  the  boy  down  who  dared  call  him  such. 
Number  One  was  in  the  habit  of  reasoning  with 
Number  Two,  who  generally  confided  his  proj- 
ects to  him,  and  usually  succeeded  in  talking 
him  out  of  them.  When  Ray  passed  his  word 
Herbert  rested.  "  There  never  was  a  more  hon- 
orable fellow,"  he  often  asserted.  So  he  went 
to  school  that  afternoon  with  a  light  heart  and 
was  not  suspicious  even  though  Ray  failed  to 
put  in  an  appearance  at  the  supper-table. 

"  Off  somewhere  with  the  boys  and  forgot 
himself,  I  suppose,"  he  answered  to  his  mother's 


II 


comment  at  this  unusual  occurrence.  He  gave 
a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction  when  he  found  him- 
self in  the  study-room  alone  ;  as  he  recalled  Ray's 
pledge  he  was  sure  his  brother  was  not  on  the 
river  :  he  had  his  promise  to  that  effect. 

"  Have  I  a  boy  at  command  ? "  asked  mamma 
pleasantly,  fully  an  hour  after,  putting  her  head 
into  the  room  where  Herbert  sat  alone  with  his 

Latin. 

"Number  One  at  your  servi:e  in  a  half-min- 
ute ;  only  another  line  to  translate." 
"And  where  is  Number  Two  ?" 
"Still   among  the    missing,"    responded   her 
eldest  cheerily.  "Won't  I  do  as  well,  mamma  ?" 
"  You  will  do,  but   hardly  as  well.      Then  I 
am  really  uneasy  about  Ray  ;  he  seldom  trans- 
gresses like  this.      Have  you  no  idea  of  his 
whereabouts,  Herbert?" 

"  Why,  he  must  be  all  right,  mamma.  You 
know  Ray  is  honorable."  Yet  his  mother's  un- 
easiness communicated  itself  to  him  in  spite  of 
his  assurance.     "  Why  won't  I  do,  mamma  ? " 


i:Jj!im»^- 


-"—--•    •■    -■-!    ■  -1- 


Irust. 


IN    TIIEK    \VF,    TRUST. 


189 


urrence.     He  gave 

^hen  he  found  him- 

as  he  recalled  Ray's 

her  was  not  on  the 

that  effect. 

id  ?  "  asked  mamma 

sr,  putting  her  head 

rt  sat  alone  with  his 

2rvi:e  in  a  half-min- 
anslate." 
rwo  .' " 

ng,"  responded  her 
o  as  well,  mamma  } " 
ly  as  well.  Then  I 
y  ;  he  seldom  trans- 
you   no   idea  of  his 

ight,  mamma.  You 
ii:'ct  his  mother's  un- 
If  to  him  in  spite  of 
t  I  do,  mamma  i " 


"  A  ba.sket  for  old  Auntie  Stewart.  You 
know  she  will  be  sure  to  say,  '  Why  didna  me 
ain  bra'  laddie  bring  it .' '  " 

"And  I'll  answer  as  sober  as  a  judge,  your 
ain  bra'  lad  has  Lrought  it,  Auntie." 

"And  her  reply,  "  smiled  Mrs.  Gardenell.  "It 
is  no  use,  Herbert,  Ray's  jolly  little  speeches 
have  won  the  first  place  in  her  heart,  and  she 
will  .say,  '  To  be  sure.  Master  Herbert,  your  me 
ain  lad,  but  it's  the  curly-pate  with  his  wee  bit 
fun  I'm  after  asking  for.  I  hope  he's  weel,  this 
evening,  and  no  forgets  old  auntie.'  " 

"  But,  if  the  basket  mun  go,  it  mun  go, 
mamma;  and  you'll  want  it  there  before  dark." 

All  the  way  to  Mrs.  Stewart's  Herbert  reas- 
sured himself.  He  was  vexed  at  his  own  un- 
easiness, growing  fast  as  he  recalled  his  mother's 
troubled  face.  Could  Ray  have  been  overper- 
suaded,  after  all .'  "  Of  course  not.  He  is  the 
soul  of  honor,"  he  answered  himself.  "  His  nod 
is  as  good  as  his  word."  Nevertheless  he  de- 
cided to  consult  his  father  if  Ray  was  still  miss- 


''^JUtmf  - 


IQO 


IN    TIIF.E    WE   TRUST. 


ing  on  his  return.     He  met  Olive  at  the  Rate, 
hat  on.  jnst    returned    from    a   call    on    a  httle 

friend. 

-Herbert,"  she  asked  immediately,  "where 
did  Ray  go  after  school  ?  There  was  that  old 
Jonas  Cowles  and  Ben  Gordon  and  Ira  Faulks 
with  him.  Grace  Turner  met  them,  and  she 
said  they  were  lauj^hing  and  talking  as  if  some 

full  was  on  foot." 

Her  brother  stopped  abruptly  in  front  of  her. 

..  O  llcrvie  !  "  she  said,  reaching  up  to  smooth 
his  brow  with  her  little  hand,  "how  that 'Look 

of  Fate  •  grows  on  you.     Please  don't  let  your 

eyes  go  any  deeper.     I've  told  you  all  I  know, 
every  word  of  it.  and  I  dont -serve  to  be  stared 

'  He  kissed  her.     "  Run  in.  Pet,  and  stay  with 

mamma.     Play  for  her,  sing  that  new  song  -do 
something,  everything-but  don't  lispaword  of 

what  Gracie  said.  That's  a  dear ;  HI  go  see 
papa."  And  Olive  who  no  more  thought  of  dis- 
obeying Herbert  than  papa  when  he  used  that 


V 


W^ 


%a^^ita»j0»''*^' 


IN    THEE   WE   TRUST. 


19» 


RUST. 

Olive  at  the  gate, 
a   call   on   a  little 

Timcdiatcly,  "  where 
There  was  that  old 

-don  and  Ira  Faulks 
met    them,  and   she 

,d  talking  as  if  some 

•uptly  in  front  of  her. 
-caching  up  to  smooth 
ind,  "  how  that  '  Look 
ricasc  don't  let  your 
:  told  you  all  I  know, 
lu't  'serve  to  be  stared 

in,  Pet,  and  stay  with 
ng  that  new  song  — do 
but  don't  lisp  a  word  of 
L's  a  dear;    I'll    S"  see 
no  more  thought  of  dis- 
,apa  when  he  used  that 


tone,  rr.n  in,  after  a  troubled  Blance  into  his  face, 

and  he  hastened  to  the  study. 

A  little  later  from  the  parlor  window  she  saw 
„a„a  and  her  hrotherpass  out  and  hasten  down 

rto  street.     Her  mother,  just  beside  her,  saw 
,bo„,,  too.  and  a  smile  brightened  her  lips,     .ow 

muci,  alike  they  were,  her  eldest  son  and  her 
precious  husband.  The  lad  was  already  nearly 
„,,  ,0  his  father,  and  had  the  same  pr.ncely 
fi„„re,  the  same  noble  head.  Her  heart  always 
rt'rmed  with   pride  when   she   saw  them   thus 

together. 

0„  they  strode.     Herbert  had  hard  work  to 

keep  up  with  his  father.     Straight  for  the  river 

they  shaped  their  course,  and  reached  it  n,  a 

„,arve,o„sly  short  space   of  tin,e.     It   seemed 

scarcely  a  moment  to  the  boy  since  he  stood  m 

the  study  repeating  his  fears,  and  now  the  boa. 

was  loosed  and  they  out  upon  the  water.  H,,w 
the  little  skiff  bounded  over  the  waves  under 
the  manful  strokes  at  the  oar. 

..  To  the  Point,  did  you  say,  Herbert  ?    that 


jmVuit^ 


192 


IN   THEE   WE   TRUST. 


was  all   tl.c  word  spoken.     Mr.   GardcncH  had 
been  seized  with  the  awful  conviction  of  .mme- 
diate  necessity  for  action.     A  horror  for  wh.ch 
he  could  not  account,  and  which  left  no  room 
even  for  surprise,  had  taken  possession  of  him 
from  the  moment  Herbert  had  uttered  his  f^rst 
word.     And  now.  hat  pushed  from  his  forehead, 
locks  free  to  the  breeze,  coat  removed,  he  bent 
to   the  oars   as  if  life  and  death  depended  on 
his   exertions.     Mow  Herbert  exulted  in  those 
„.asterful   strokes!     His   father  was   so  gra..!. 
so  much  a  man  in  everything;  he  would  be  hke 

him.  God  helping  him.  and  then  a  sudden  ejacu- 
lation from  the  alert  man  sent  his  thoughts  m 
another  direction. 

They  were   midway  across  to   the   island  ;  a 
boat  approached.     There  were  only  boys  m  U 
and  one  crouched  over  as  if  in  fear.     They  had 
taken  in  sail,  and  were  coming  slowly,  but  the 
erand    strokes    of    this    single    oarsman    soon 
brought  the  skiffs  abreast.     Herbert  discerned 
Jonas  Cowles,  Ira  Faulks  and  Ben  Gordon  in  the 


lUST. 

Mr.  Gardcncll  had 
onviction  of  inime- 
^  horror  for  which 
vhich  left  no  room 

possession  of  him 
rtacl  uttered  his  first 
d  from  his  forehead, 
it  removed,  he  bent 

death  depended  on 
crt  exulted  in  those 
ather  was  so  grand, 
ig  ;  he  would  be  like 

then  a  sudden  ejacu- 

sent  his  thoughts  in 

OSS  to   the   island  ;  a 
were  only  boys  in  it, 
if  in  fear.     They  had 
oming  slowly,  but  the 
single    oarsman    soon 
5t.     Herbert  discerned 
and  Ben  Gordon  in  the 


IN    THEE   WE   TRUST. 


gathering  dusk.  Vvhere  was  Ray?  Perhaps 
he  didn't  go,  after  all,  "  honest  old  fellow,"  he 
commented  inwardly,  with  a  little  self-reproach 
that  he  ever  had  doubted  him. 

"  What  have  you  in  the  bottom  there  ?  " 
How  stern   his  father's   voice  sounded  ;   not 
a  boy  in  that  boat  bu:  shivered  as  he  heard  it. 

"  Ray  Gardenell,"  answered  somebody  timidly. 
"He  fell  in  as  we  were  pushing  off;  not  very 
deep,  but  he  got  tangled  somehow.  We  pulled 
him  out,  but  he  isn't  conscious." 

Another  stroke,  and  silently  as  the  boats  met, 
two  hands  passed  Herbert  the  oars,  took  up  the 
motionless  form  beside  which  Ben  Gordon 
cowered,  wrapped  it  silently  in  his  coat,  and 
hastily  resumed  the  oars.  Forward  with  a 
bound  went  the  little  skiff   under  a  desperate 

touch. 

"Was  Ray  dead?"  Herbert  felt  faint  as  he 
caught  sight  of  the  white,  upturned  face.  Did 
the  strong  man  ask  himself  that  question  also  ? 
On,  on,  back  towards  the  city  they  went  with 


IN    TIIEE    WE    TRUST. 

From    the    baitman's    lips 
mighty    plunges.      From 

dropped  these  words,  these  only: - 

..Thou  »rt  God.  our  Go.1.     InThee  we  trust. 

Like  n,usie  they  fell   on   the  hoy^ars  over 

yonder,  between    whom  and   the    speaker     ay 

that  white  soruething.    "  Our  God.      In  Thee 

„e  trust."     Herbert  wept  as  he  repeated  then. 

'"how  short,  how  long  a  t,me  sinec  they  left 
that  wharf  where  they  landed  again.     Herber 
never  knew  how  the  boat  was  fastened,  or  wha 

happened  next.     The  first  he  reah.ed  severa 

„U  sailors  were  helpi.,g  to  lift  Ray -'"-"W 
.bed  near  by,  and  his  father's  voiec  was  saymg, 

..Adoctor.myboy.bequiek!"  Then  he  ran, 
the  last  words  in  his  ears  those  of  one  0  the 
seamen,  M  think  he's  quite  gone,  s,r  and  hs 
fathers  ealm  and  reverent  ar.swer,"Sm«  God 

lives,  wc  will  hope." 

Providence  favored  Herbert.    Only  a  block  or 

two  away  he  fairly  ran  under  the  feet  of  Dr. 
Ford's  horse.     He  was  a  friend  of  the  fam.ly. 


I 


,Xv^^*^,:^^'ijy-^^". 


IN    THEE   WE   TRUST. 


195 


RUST. 

he     boatman's    lips 

)nly  :  — 
In  Thee  we  trust." 

I   the   boy-ears   over 

id   the    speaker  lay 

)ur  God.      In  Thee 

IS  he  repeated  them 

time  since  they  left 
uled  again.     Herbert 
was  fastened,  or  what 
it  he    realized   several 
o  lift  Ray  into  an  old 
ler's  voice  was  saying, 
^uick!"     Then  he  ran, 
rs  those  of  one  of  the 
uite  gone,  sir,"  and  his 
;nt  answer,  "  Since  God 

erbert.  Only  a  block  or 
,  under  the  feet  of  Dr. 
,  a  friend  of  the  family. 


and  as  he  drew  up,  Herbert  scrambled  to  the 
seat  beside  him.  How  breathlessly  he  waited 
as  the  physician  felt  for  the  heart  and  pulse  of 

his  brother. 

"  I  fear  there  is  little   hope  ;   no  perceptible 

pulse,"  he  said  sadly. 

How  his  father's  eyes  gleamed  in  the  dim 
light ;  what  unearthly  strength  and  beauty  lit 
up  his  fine  face  !  "  With  God,  a  little  goes  far. 
There's  abundance  of  hope  somewhere." 

And  while  they  labored  to  resuscitate  the 
limp  body  Herbert  crept  back  in  a  corner,  and, 
dropping  on  his  knees,  prayed  There  was 
wrestling  the  ne.\t  hour  in  that  old  shed;  no 
Jacob  wrestled  harder.  One  wrestled  as  he 
worked,  and  one  worked  only  wrestling. 

"  O,  Lord,  I  will  yield  all  my  preferences,  I 
will  do  thy  work,  and  thine  only,  while  I  live. 
My  life  for  his,  dear  Lord.  I  will  be  your  slave, 
go  to  heathen  lands— anything  — but  spare  him 
till  his  soul  is  saved,"  moaned  the  boy  under  his 
breath.     And  then  as   the  sudden  conviction 


IN   THEE  WE   TRUST. 

.Ha.    death    had  even    .hen  .aUen   possession 
„™„ghishear.,>ndespera.io„hecned,"W..h 

Thee  are  .he  issues  of  life.   Oh !  bring  him  baek. 
baek,  back,  un.il  his  soul  is  saved." 

And  ye.   no.  .he  quivering  of  lip  or  nos.nl 
gave  sign  of  re.urning  life. 

..  Even  so,  Fa.ber,  for  so  i.  seeme.h  good  n 
thy  sigh.,"  a.  leng.h  moaned  Mr.  Gardenell, 
Jing  himself  from  above  his  boy  and  ra,smg 

hi.  e  es  in  hear..broken  resigna.ion  .o  Heave. 
,N„I  my  »ill,bu.  Thine  be  done."    And  , us. 

then  Dr.  Ford  said  ferven.ly,  "Thank  God  . 
and  one  of  .he  old  .ars  uncovered  his  hea,  and 

,_    1  .„r„    "  Vc's  be  answered,  yer 
sobbed  ou.  brokenly,      Yes  ue 

Riverence  ;  .he  b'y  brathes." 

Brca.hes!  They  held  .heir  brea.hs  as  u,ey 
™„d  for  ano.her  gasp.  Yes,  surely,  another ; 
;ereis..fe,andwi.hag.ad,-.Herber.ou 

GO.  does  answer  prayer,"  .he  fa.her  ben    ov 
hi,  son.    Yes,  he  lived,  and  by  and  by,  w.th  .he 
docor  beside  him,  R.y  was  placed  in  an  easy 


"ns 


■%  I*  ^-^iT--'-^^  • 


UST. 

taken   possession 
,n  he  cried,  "With 
h  !  bring  him  back, 
ived." 
g  of  Up  or  nostril 

it  seemeth  good  in 
led  Mr.   Gardenell, 
his  boy  and  raising 
iignation  to  Heaven. 
,e  done."     And  just 
tly,  "Thank  God!" 
overed  his  head,  and 
's  be  answered,  yer 

cs. 

heir  breaths  as  tliey 

Yes,  surely,  another ; 

glad,  "Herbert,   our 
'  the  father  bent  over 
nd  by  and  by,  with  the 
was  placed  in  an  easy 
and  Herbert  hastened 


IN   THEE   WE   TRUST. 


197 


ahead  in  the  doctor's  carnage  to  prepare  the 
household  for  his  coming. 

"  Go  to  Martha,  and  have  his  bed  made  ready 
at  once."  whispered  Mr.  Gardenell  at  the  door, 
with  a  pressure  of  his  son's  hand,  and  he  turned 
to  his  wife's  room. 


ni 


m 


if'l': 


Mv 


^Jl! 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE    DANGER    PAST. 
Ah.  yes.  His  pity,  like  His  heaven,  is  large.^    ^    ^ 

MRS  GARDF.NELL  had  been  passing  a 
wretched    evening.     In    spite    of    her 
little   daughter's   efforts   to    entertain  her.   all 
through  the  hour  spent  with  the  wee  boys  her 
heart    had  been   heavy  with    some    iU-defined 
dread,   some   premonition    of    sorrow.     A  few 
fnends  dropped  in.  and  she  tried  to  be  pleasant 
and   interested   in   their   conversation,  but  her 
thoucrhts  would  wander  to  the  mssing  boy.  and 
wonder  that  his  father  did   not  return.     Some 
one  ought  to  be  searching  for  Ray.     Unwilling 
to  burden  Olive  with  her  fears,  she  dismissed 
her  at  last,  and  felt  relieved  when  she  could  go 
to  her  room  alone  and  pour  out  her  heart  before 

198 


THE   DANGER    FAST. 


199 


XV. 


PAST. 


leaveti,  is  large. 

J.  P.  C. 

had  been  passing  a 
In  spite  of  her 
>  entertain  her,  all 
th  the  wee  boys  her 
ith    some    ill-defined 

of  sorrow.  A  few 
e  tried  to  be  pleasant 
:onversation,  but  her 

the  n-issing  boy,  and 
d  not  return.  Some 
g  for  Ray.  Unwilling 
r  fears,  she  dismissed 
^ed  when  she  could  go 
xr  out  her  heart  before 
98 


God.     She  had  just  arisen  from  her  knees  when 
her  husband  found  her. 

"  Darling,  God  is  good  to  us,"  he  said,  kissing 
her  brow  as  he  bent  over  her. 

"  O,  Herbert !  what  has  happened  ?  " 
Something   of   the    strain,  the  agony  of   the 
.  past  hours  may  have  been  in  his  voice  ;  much  of 
the   joy   of    deliverance   from   a   great   sorrow. 
This  one  whose  every  heart-throb  had  long  since 
learned  to  vibrate   to  the   cadence  of  that  be- 
loved voice -to  whom  the  slightest  variation  of 
his  tone  was  understood -this  one  knew  that 
danger  was  past,  that  some  great  blow  had  been 
averted,  that  her  husband  needed  her  now,  and 
as  she  sprang  to  her  feet,  the  question  on  her 
lips,  she  turned  to  the  door,  adding,  — 

"  I   am   ready,   darling.     Yes,    God   is  good. 
What  am  I  to  do  .? " 

"Thank  Him,  first,  that  our  Ray  is  saved 
from  an  awful  death -from  drownin;;.  I  hear 
the  carriage  coming.  God  bless  my  brave  little 
wife!"     For  Herbert  Gardenell  had  never  yet 


^»i- 


20O  THE   DANGER    PAST. 

come  to  Yensic.  whatever  the  exigency,  and 

found  her  unready. 
Together  they  met  the  burden  at  the  door; 

he  proud  and  exultant,  and  not  to  be  dismayed 
at  the  white  face  and  wilted  body  before  wh,eh 

his  wife  paled  ;  but,  in  spite  of  an  inward  s,nk- 
i„g,  no  one  responded   more  calmly  to  every   . 
demand  of  the  physician  or  assisted  more  efR- 
eiently  at  that  bedside  than  Yensie  Gardenell. 
Herself  was  put  aside,  and  when  everything  was 
arranged  for  the  night  she  insisted  that   she 
alone  must  watch  by  the  couch  while  others 

rested. 

Herbert  had  found  his  little  sister  wa.tmg  for 
him  in  the  hall,  crouched  on  the  top  stair,  when 

he  went  in  search  of  Martha. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Pet  ?  " 
..  O  Hervie  !  I  couldn't  sleep.  Mamma  sent 
„.e  to' bed.  but  I  was  so  afraid.  I  didn't  say 
one  word  to  her  all  the  evening,  but  my  heart 
f,,,  ,o-so  dizzy,  and  I  most  know  hers  d.d 
too.     She   didn't  want  me  to  s'pect  anythmg. 


U^ 


J-a 


^ii-nn"--^"* 


lST. 

he  exigency,  and 

rden  at  the  door; 
ot  to  be  dismayed 
body  before  which 
of  an  inward  sink- 
e  calmly  to  every   , 
assisted  more  effi- 
Yensie  Gardcnell. 
hen  everything  was 
;  insisted  that   she 
couch   while  others 

tie  sister  waiting  for 
,  the  top  stair,  when 

I. 

-e,  Pet  ? " 

sleep.     Mamma  sent 

afraid.     I  didn't   say 

vening.  but  my  beart 

most  know  hers  did 

;  to  s'pcct  anything, 


fff 


i        :,  11 


■  r\ 


I 


\iV\ 


1   1  M 

;  I  'ill 

!  Hi'' 


',1 


'dt 


THE   DANGER    PAST. 


20 1 


and  I  didn't  \  nt  her,  and  we  were  such  misyer- 
able  hypocrites.  I  wish  I  hadn't  promised  not 
to  tell.  It's  just  dreadful  to  be  making  b'lieve 
happy  when  p'raps  something  awful  is  happenin' 
to  your  own  brother.  Hervie,  tell  me  truly,  did 
Ray  go  on  the  river  with  those  boys,  and  is  he 

dead .'  " 

"  He  went  on  the  river,  but  he  is  safe,  darling. 
God  has  given  him  b;  ck  to  us,  and  now  you 
must  hop  into  bed  like  a  precious." 

"  Oh !  I  can't,  I  can't ;  don't  ask  me  too,  Hervie. 
I'll  be  just  as  good  and  just  as  still,  but  I  won't 
leave  you  again  to-night.  1  feel  safe  where  you 
are,  and  my  bedroom  is  so  lonesome." 

What  could  Herbert  do  but  kiss  the  tearful 
little  face,  and,  putting  a  shawl  about  her,  allow 
her  to  follow  him  to  Martha's  room,  thence  to 
Ray's,  and  so  into  the  very  scene  he  longed  to 

spare  her  ? 

"  Please  come  in  here,"  he  said,  opening  the 
door  of  his  own  pleasant  chamber  as  he  heard 
the  carriage  wheels  approaching.     She  followed 


if 


i  H 


w 


ii' 


(• 


:  ■'  r 


if 

:  m 


I'': ; 


ti  i; 


202 


THE    UANGER    PAST. 


hin.  but  only  to  spring  out  into  the  hall  agam 

^v.hcn  the  heavy  steps  aseended  the  sta.rs. 

..  Don't  look.  cWt.  Olive."  Herbert  said,  put- 
ting his  hand  over  her  eyes.  Too  late!  She 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  that  deathly  faee,  and 
was  clinging  to  him  in  mortal  terror. 

MIeisdead.I  know  he  is,  and,  oh-oh  !  M 
had  only  always  been  good  to  him,"  she  moaned. 

In  vain  Herbert  soothed  and  reassured  her  ; 
told  her  Ray  had  opened  his  eyes,  spoken,  that 
Dr  Ford  said  he  would  live.  Apparently  con- 
vinced one  moment,  she  broke  into  wails  the 
next,  and  at  last  he  took  her  to  Ray's  own 
room  and  asked  the  doctor  to  tell  her  himself 

that  her  brother  would  live. 

.<  Yes  ■  bless  God.  little  Olive.  I  trust  the 
boy  is  out  of  danger  now,"  said  the  physician 
cheerfully.  "Now.  lady-bird,  you  get  mto 
your  nest,  or  I  shall  give  you  one  of  these 
terrible   powders." 

Then  he  kissed  the  little   girl's   cheek,  and 
papa  carried  her  away  in  his  strong  arms  and 


-jS^- 


■..,-•<  •^'i4„.\;.'"i. 


\ 


IS 


VST. 

nto  the  hall  again 
(l  the  stairs. 
Herbert  said,  put- 
Too  late!     She 
t  deathly  face,  and 
I  terror, 
i,  and,  oh-oh  !  if  I 
him,"  she  moaned, 
and  reassured  her  ; 
s  eyts,  spoken,  that 
c.     Apparently  con- 
roke   into  wails  the 
her    to   Ray's   own 
■  to  tell  her  himself 

;  Olive,  I  trust  the 
,"  said  the  physician 
-bird,  you  get  into 
c    you    one   of   these 

tie   girl's   cheek,  and 
his  strong   arms  and 


THE   DANGER    I'AST. 


203 


put  her  to  bed  himself,  and  sat  beside  her  until 
she  had  fallen  into  a  sound  sleep. 

Herbert  and  his  mother  were  alone  when  he 
returned  to  Ray's  chamber.  There  was  no  need 
to  keep  the  household  up,  Mrs.  Gardenell  said, 
so  she  had  dismissed  them  all  but  this  one ;  he 
insisted  on  remaining  until  sure  Olive  slept. 

Mr.  Gardenell  stooped  above  his  eldest-born 
and  folded  him  in  his  arms.  "  Kiss  your  mother," 
he  said,  holding  the  dear  face  for  the  caress. 
..  Now  I  will  sec  you  in  bed.  I  want  to  feel 
sure  of  my  treasures  to-night." 

.<  You  will  go  to  bed  and  get  a  little  rest  your- 
self, Herbert,"  Mrs.  Gardenell  said  to  her  hus- 
band as  he  returned  again  to  her  side. 

.'  Rest !  "  he  smiled.  "  Shall  I  ever  need  rest 
again  >  I  feel  as  fresh  as  a  skylark,  and  as  ready 
to  soar.  'They  that  wait  on  the  Lord  shall 
renew  their  .strength.'  Literally  has  the  prom- 
ise been  fulfilled  in  me  to-night  " 

"And   yet    Herbert    has   told   me    how   you 
labored.     You  will  feel  it  to-morrow.     Do  go  to 


":"4^*ftfn 


m 


m 


<nt 


204 


THE   DANGER    PAST. 


bed.     I  covet  the  first  conscious  gbncc  of  my 

boy." 

-Thou  Shalt  not  covet.'"  fondly.  "Did 
Herbert  tell  you,  also,  that  the  first,  the  only 
words    the    boy   spoke   were,    '  Little    mother- 

woman   r 
"No." 

"Ah!  but  they  were."  But  Mr.  Gardenell 
did  not  tell  her  that  these  words  seemed  the 
sweetest  music  his  cars  had  ever  heard,  and 
that,  as  they  reached  him.  he  caught  his  eldest 
son  to  his  bosom,  crying  like  a  babe,  while 
every  one  present  wept  in  sympathy. 

So  it  happened  when  Ray  opened  his  great 
black  eyes  some  time  after,  and  repeated  his 
first  words,  "  Little  mother."  she  was  there  to 
respond.  "  Yes.  my  darling." 

He  put  up  hi£  mouth  childishly  for  a  kiss, 
sighed,  and  fell  off  to  sleep  again  ;  but  not  for 
long.  Before  morning  he  woke  again  with  the 
same  words  on  his  lips,  and  more:  "Will  you 
forgive  me,  little  mother  .>" 


'k. 


THE    DANGER    I'AST. 


205 


AST. 


ious  glance  of  my 

"•  fondly.  "Did 
the  first,  the  only 
c,    '  Little    mother- 


But  Mr.  GardencU 

words  seemed  the 
id  ever  heard,  and 
le  caught  his  eldest 

like   a  babe,  while 

sympathy. 

ay  opened  his  great 
;r,  and  repeated  his 
T,"  she  was  there  to 

childishly  for  a  kiss, 
p  again  ;  but  not  for 
woke  again  with  the 
,nd  more:  "Will  you 


'•  I  have,  my  son." 

"  Pray." 

That  was  all.  Only  as  she  knelt  and  held  his 
hands,  praying,  she  saw  two  bright  tears  course 
down  his  checks.  He  was  very  weak.  She  did 
not  talk  to  him.  It  ws  bc'tcr  for  the  dear 
Holy  Spirit  to  talk,  she  thought.  That  would 
not  weary  her  boy. 

There  was  great  joy  and  thanksgiving  in  the 
hearts  of  each  member  of  the  family  next 
morning,  as  they  assembled  at  breakfast,  and 
knelt  in  prayer.  How  praise  abounds  after 
sorrow  averted  !  Strange  we  do  not  offer  it 
oftencr  before  it  comes  —  when  it  has  not  even 
threatened.  Queer  mortals  we  are.  Ray  was 
missed ;  the  vacant  chair  was  there,  but  oh ! 
"  not  forever,"  thought  father  and  mother,  and 
though    tearful   eyes   met,   there   were   smiling 

lips. 

Ray  was  very  weak  ;  would  be  a  prisoner  for 
some  days,  and  all  vied  in  their  attentions  to 
him.      His    parents    noticed,  in    the   days   that 


?»*■- 


i*? 


THE    DANGER    PAST. 

followed,  how  often  his  eyes  filled  at  some  fresh 
proof  of  their  devotion. 

"  I  don't  deserve  it,"  he  said  to  mamma,  as 
his  father  laid  the  new  book  he  had  been 
desiring,  on  his  pillow. 

"  Love  is  Gou-like,"  she  made  answer.  "  '  Not 
by  works  oi'  -i^hteousness  which  we  have  done, 
but  according  to  his  mercy.  He  saved  us.'  " 

Ray  was  thinking.  Might  not  this  dark  road 
lead  to  the  King's  highway  ?     They  hoped  so. 


PAST. 

.  filled  at  some  fresh 

said  to  mamma,  as 
book    he    had    been 

nade  answer.    "  '  Not 
which  we  have  done, 

He  saved  us.'  " 
ht  not  this  dark  road 

?     They  hoped  so. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

BETTER     AND     WORSE. 

The  darkest  day 
Live  till  to-morrow,  will  have  passed  away 


COWPER. 


AS  Ray  got  better,  he  acted  very  much  like 
his  olden  self,  much  to  the  disgust  of 
Olive  and  the  sorrow  of  Herbert,  who  had  one 
long  solemn  talk  with  him. 

"  If  you  had  died  then,  Ray,  where  would  you 
be  now .'  "  he  asked,  shuddering,  and  with  such 
pain  in  his  voice  that  his  brother  was  moved. 

'<  Dear  old  Herv,"  he  said,  laying  a  caressing 
hand  on  his  brother's,  "you  care  altogether  too 
much  for  this  boy;  he's  not  worth  it.  Don't 
waste  your  time  ;  let  me  take  my  own  way.  I'm 
not  just  ready  yet.  If  you'd  spent  all  this  time 
on  your  Horace  it  would  have  paid  better,"  lifting 
and  passing  him  the  book  he  had  dropped. 

207 


I:     1 


208 


BETTER    AND    WORSE. 


"  Ray,  Ray  ! " 

"Herbert.    Herbert!"    mockingly.      "Honor 
bright,  you'll  never  find  me  in   such   a  scrape 
aga'in.     I  shall  not  blame  you  if  you  don't  take 
nly  word  ;  I've  forfeited  your  respect,  but  I  do 
intend  to  keep  straight  henceforward.     Farther 
than  that,  I'm  not   ready  to   go.     There's   too 
much  to  give  up.     There's  lots  ahead  I  want  to 
do,   and   religion -your  kind    and    father's - 
would  be  in  my  way.      H  I   could  take   it   as 
some  do -the  pliable  sort  that   stretches -I 
might  try  it ;  but  that  wouldn't  suit  you  any 
better  than   my  present   position,  and   I   hate 
shams    myself.      Now,    let    me    alone    awhile. 
When  I'm  ready  I'll  let  you  know,  and  you  can 
pitch  in.      It's  kind  of   taking  advantage  of   a 
fellow  to  press  him  when  he  is  down,  and  hates 

to  deny  you. 

"Everybody  thinks  I  ought  to  turn  pious 
now  because  I've  been  into  this  scrape,  and 
everybody  thinks  it  their  business  to  throw  in  a 
dose  of  advice  with  every  flower  and  bit  of  fruit 


,.' 


gly.      "  Honor 
such   a  scrape 
you  don't  take 
spcct,  but  I  do 
ward.     Farther 
).     There's   too 
ihcad  I  want  to 
and    father's  — 
ould  take   it   as 
it   stretches  —  I 
;t  suit   you  any 
ion,  and   I   hate 
e    alone    awhile. 
,ow,  and  you  can 
J  advantage  of   a 
down,  and  hates 

ht   to   turn    pious 

this    scrape,  and 

acss  to  throw  in  a 

/er  and  bit  of  fruit 


BETTER    AND   WORSE. 


209 


they  send  me.  I'm  sick  of  it.  I  told  mamma 
I  would  not  see  another  person.  I  guess  papa  is 
parson  enough  to  attend  to  all  my  needs  in  this 
direction,  and  if  he  is  not  he  has  a  very  able 
assistant  at  hand.  I  say  no  man  has  a  right  to 
attack  another  just  because  he  don't  agree  with 

his  beliefs." 

"  Has  a  United  States  officer  a  right  to  arrest 
a  criminal  without  his  permission  ?"  asked  Her- 
bert quietly. 

"  Of  course  he  has.  He  isn't  a  faithful  offi- 
cer unless  he  does.     That's  his  business." 

'<  Ju,st  so  ;  and  it's  my  business  and  papa's 
and  every  other  Christian's  to  arrest  every  sin- 
ner in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  bring  him 
to  unconditional  surrender.  You  are  a  rebel 
against  Heaven,  Ray  Gardenell." 

"  And  you  are  a  born  parson  as  well  as  a  first- 
class  lawyer,"  laughed  Ray  uneasily.  "  But  I 
tell  you,  Herv,  your  special  police  had  best 
settle  it  that  half  of  your  work  is  but  lost 
time." 


2IO 


BETTER    ANU   WORSE. 


••  None  of  my  business  or  a  government  offi- 
cer's, either.  Our  time  is  not  our  own  ;  it  has 
been  bought  up.  Mine  was  given  me  to  lose  or 
spend  as  God  wills  for  his  own  glory.  Hence- 
forth by  his  grace    He    shall  have  his  way  in 

one  boy." 

<'You    don't    mean,"    said    Ray,   eying    his 
brother  keenly,  "  you  can't  mean  —  Herv,  old 
fellow,  what's   the   matter   with  you,  anyway? 
You  don't  appear  natural.     Did  I  give  you  such 
a  scare  that  you  lost  yourself  altogether  .?  " 
<•  Do  you  miss  me,  Ray  .'  " 
"  Miss  is  no  word  for  it.     You  always  were 
good,    but    not    gooder.      There,"  answering  a 
wistful  look  in  his  brother's  eyes,  "  don't  preach. 
I  am  what  I  am,  and  you  what  you  are.     I'm 
really  half  afraid  to  be  left  alone  with  you  lest 
I  have  to  turn  parson  to  please  you." 

Herbert  smiled  sadly.     "  H  you  will  only  turn 
Christian  we  will    wait  for   the    parson  a  few 


years 


..  As  if  I  ever  could  be  parson.     You  were 


WORSE. 

5r  a  government  offi- 
not  our  own  ;  it  has 

s  given  me  to  lose  or 
own  glory.     Hence- 

lall  have  his  way  in 

said  Ray,  eying  his 
I't  mean  —  Herv,  old 
r  with  you,  anyway  .' 
Did  I  give  you  such 
self  altogether  ? " 

>" 

it.     You  always  were 

There,"  answering  a 
"s  eyes,  "  don't  preach. 
HI  what  you  are.  I'm 
eft  alone  with  you  lest 
please  you." 
"  If  you  will  only  turn 

for   the    parson  a  few 

be  parson.     You  were 


BETTER   AND   WORSE. 


211 


cut. 


„ea„t  for  .ha.  yourself,  Ilcrv;  got   *e  exact 

!;',  believe    youre   right.  an<l   I've  decked 

'°'.'.a   Herv!    you  Oon't    mean...      What  a 
.l,a™:i  a  .oywith  such  talents.    Why     uO«e 

Wilde  expects  you  in  his  office  some  day  ,  h= 
.old  papa  it  was  hest  for  a  boy  to  follow  h,s  hen. 

and  I  heard  the  old  professor  tell  father  yon  we^ 
by  far  his  brightest  scholar,  with  ev,dent  talents 
for  the  bar.     A  ■  natural  pleader,' those  were  h:s 

exact  words."  „ 

..  Let  me  plead  the  cause  of  my  King,  then, 

said  Herbert  softly  :  — 

...Lord,  I  am  Thine,  entirely  Thine, 
.       Purchased  and  saved  by  grace  d.vme, 
With  fuU  consent  Thine  1  won  db.^^^ 
And  own  Thy  sovereign  right  .n  me. 

Ray's  face  sobered.     .- It's  a  sudden  change." 
he  said.     ..I  know  fathernever  persuaded  you. 
that  isn't  his  way -.and  that  very  afternoon  be- 
fore-before    I    got   drowned."    half-laughmg. 


212 


BETTER    AND    WORSE. 


"  you  were  telling  me  of  dropping  into  Judge 
Wilde's  office  and  how  pleased  he  was  to  find 
you  had  been  digging  into  his  old  tomes." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  replied  his  brother;  "  I  think 
unconsciously  I  was  trying  to  have  my  own  way. 
I  was  not  fully  sure  the  dear  Lord  wanted  me 
to  follow  papa,  and  I  did  not  care  to  find  out.  I 
was  uneasy  at  times,  but  —  O,  Ray  !  I  can  never 
be  the  same  after  that  fearful  night,"  falling  be- 
side his  brother's  couch  and  hiding  his  face  in 
his  hands. 

"Brother,  dear  brother,  when  I  saw  your 
deathly  face,  feared  you  might  be  even  then 
standing  before  the  bar  of  God,  unforgiven,  un- 
prepared —  my  own  brother,  my  loved  brother 
condemned,  lost  forever,  my  soul  well-nigh  died, 
too.  Oh  !  it  was  fearful,  fearful.  I  never  shall 
forget  the  look  on  father's  face  ;  and  as  I  crept  to 
the  other  side  of  the  shanty  I  got  on  my  knees 
and  gave  myself  to  God  and  souls  as  never  be- 
fore. I  realized  the  worth  of  a  soul,  the  awful 
interests  at  stake  in  life,  and  it  seemed  the  only 


WORSE. 

dropping  into  Judge 
;ased  he  was  to  find 
lis  old  tomes." 
is  brother  ;  "  I  think 
to  have  my  own  way. 
;ar  Lord  wanted  me 
t  care  to  find  out.  I 
O,  Ray  !  I  can  never 
ful  night,"  falling  he- 
ld hiding  his  face  in 


,  when  I  saw  your 
might  be  even  then 
God,  unforgiven,  un- 
er,  my  loved  brother 
y  soul  well-nigh  died, 
earful.  I  never  shall 
:ace  ;  and  as  I  crept  to 
ty  I  got  on  my  knees 
nd  souls  as  never  be- 
ll of  a  soul,  the  awful 
nd  it  seemed  the  only 


BETTER   AND    WORSE. 


213 


thing  worth  living  for  to  snatch  men  from  the 
power  of   sin,   to  work,   pray,   preach    day  and 
night  if  only  some  were  saved.     How  little  other 
ambitions    looked    beside   such   work   done   for 
Christ,  in   Christ ;  what  value  had  any  success 
that  did  not  succeed  in  saving  men  ?     Just  to 
follow  Jesus,  just  to  live  and  die  as  He  did  for 
others,  just  to  lose  myself  and  interests  and  be 
swallowed  up  forever  in  his  will,  his  service.      I 
can't  tell  you,  Ray,  I  can't  tell  any  one  what 
that  night  was  to  me.     If  only  God  would  spare 
your   life  I   vowed  to  be  his  slave,  and   yet  it 
seemed  such    great   honor   then,  that  had   you 
died  I  should  still  have  craved  it  at  his  hands.     I 
never  again  could  be  content  to  do  anything  else. 
My  ambition  died  that  night ;  it  almost  seems 
as  if   I  died,  too,"  said  the  boy  solemnly.     "  I 
haven't  been   the   same   since.     God,  Eternity, 
Heaven  —  everything  seems  so  real.     I  feel  every 
moment  as  if   I  stood  in  the  very  presence  of 

the  King." 

Ray's   face  was   hidden    in    his   hands  when 


214 


BETTER    AND   WORSE. 


Herbert  lifted  his  radiant  yet  wet  with  holy 
tears.  No  such  sermon  had  ever  been  preached 
to  Raymond  Gardenell  before  ;  his  form  shook, 
and  tears  oozed  through  his  fingers. 

"  You  have  given  your  life  for  mine,  your  pro.s- 
pccts  for  my  soul,"  he  said  huskily.     "  It  is  too 
costly  a  sacrifice  ;  my  miserable,  selfish  life  was 
not  worth  the  strength  and   purpose  of  yours. 
O,  Ilerv  !  I  wish  you'd   take  it  all  back,  but  I 
know  you  won't.     You  are  like  some  old  rapt 
saint ;  your  very  face  shines  as  'loses'  did  of  old. 
You'll  go  on  and  on,  like  father,  denying  your- 
self, and  never  counting  anything  too  hard  to  do 
for  the  meanest  scamp  that  lives.     I  expected 
to  be  proud  of  you,  Herv  — I  am,  too.      You've 
got  the  real  kind  of  religion,  the  only  kind  I  ever 
want.     But  I  can't  get  it ;  the  price  is  too  high  ; 
I  could  never  yield  my  whole  life  as  you  do,  don't 
ask  me,  for  I  feel  it's  too  mean  to  say  No  to  you, 
but  I  never  could,  dear  old  Hervie ;  it  isn't  pos- 
sible, it  really  isn't  possible." 

And  that  was  the  best  that  Ray  would  say. 


BETTER   AND   WORSE. 


215 


RSE. 

ct  wet  with  holy 
ver  been  preached 
;  his  form  shook, 
fingers. 

3r  mine,  your  pros- 

skily.     "  It  is  too 

)le,  selfish  life  was 

purpose  of  yours. 

it  all  back,  but  I 

ike  some  old  rapt 

s  '-loses'  did  of  old. 

her,  denying  your- 

liing  too  hard  to  do 

lives.     I  expected 

am,  too.      You've 

the  only  kind  I  ever 

e  price  is  too  high  ; 

life  as  you  do,  don't 

m  to  say  No  to  you, 

[^ervie  ;  it  isn't  pos- 

t  Ray  would  say. 


..  rd  like  to,  1  wouU  inJeed,  but  it  isn't  pos- 
""I'tpossibier  Herbert  Idt  his  brother's 

room,  a  smile  wreathing  his  iips  as  he  repeated, 
:,Wi„  God  aiUirings  are  possible  r"A.ith..,B 

..possible  to  him  that  believeth."     He  seemed 
„hmself.o  have  reaehed  the  plaee  where  „o.h 

;  eould  be  denied  him.     " '"  <»-=7  "'^^ 
JceoMheKing,"hehadsaidindeser,b,„g 

e,perienee  to  his  brother.    Yes ;  baskmg  m  the 
:UKtoM,issm,le,  looking    into  h>s.ov,n 

e,es,  bearing  the  mosieo.-^      21: 
as  he  was  he  had  learned  the  seeret 
surrender;  other  words  tor  absolute  peaee  and 

i„y     He  had  "reached  the  land  of  cor,,  and 
J„e  " -"The  lite  hid  with  Clrrist  in  God. 
pather  and  mother  bad  both  noticed  a  sobtle 

change    in    their    first-born.      Always   tender, 
Lhttul,  obedient,  Christian,  an  ad, « 

thin,  thrilled  their  hearts  with  ,oy,  and  the  hope 

hrt°.his  dear   one    bad    indeed    reached  the 

let  place  ot  the  Most  High."     That  the 


2l6 


BETTER   AND    WORSE, 


night  of  their  terrible  testing  was  at  the  bottom 
of  this  Mr.  Gardenell  never  questioned  ;  that  the 
cherished  hope  of  his  heart  would  be  yet  ful- 
filled in  Herbert  he  never  doubted;  that  it  was 
near,  he  dared  to  believe.  lie  had  not  uttered 
a  word,  but  a  hand-clasp  as  they  passed  each 
other,  a  flash  of  eyes  and  lips  had  revealed  much, 
and  he  was  quite  prepared  for  the  conversation 
that  took  place  in  his  study  that  night  after  the 
talk  with  Ray. 

It  was  so  sweet  to  know,  to  have  assurance 
more  assured,  to  look  into  the  clear  eyes  of  his 
darling  boy,  and  listen  to  the  earnest  tones  of 
his  rich  voice,  broken  occasionally  as  they  wept 
together.  It  is  blessed  to  be  understood.  Such 
sons  have  not  always  such  fathers ;  mutual 
understanding,  the  flash  of  thought  to  thought, 
spirit  to  spirit  ere  words  could  be  their  inter- 
preter, prayer,  thanksgiving,  praise,  joy  beyond 
expression,  as  soul  melted  to  soul,  and  both 
were  one  in  God. 

This   boy,  always    so   precious,  what   did    he 


tSE. 

ia.s  at  the  bottom 
stioncd  ;  that  the 
'ould  be  yet  ful- 
bted  ;  that  it  was 
had  not  uttered 
hey  passed  each 
d  revealed  much, 
the  conversation 
t  night  after  the 

have  assurance 
lear  eyes  of  his 
earnest  tones  of 
lly  as  they  wepc 
dcrstood.  Such 
fathers  ;  mutual 
ight  to  thought, 
I  be  their  inter- 
lisc,  joy  beyond 

soul,  and    both 

IS,  what   did   he 


BETTER   AND    WORSE. 


217 


become  to  his  father  that  night?  Long  after 
he  had  left  him,  Mr.  Gardenell  paced  his  study 
in  a  tumultuous  rapture  under  which  his  human 
heart  almost  gave  way.  Saved  to  the  uttermost ! 
Not  only  heir  to,  but  in  the  kingdom,  partaking 
even  now  of  the  supper  of  the  Lamb.  Wave 
after  wave  of  glory  passed  over  the  father's 
soul,  and  weak  from  excess  of  joy,  his  wife 
found  him  presently. 

"My  darling,"  he  said,  drawing  her  to  his 
arms,  "  our  tree  of  sorrow  has  blossomed,  and 
the  young  fruit  hangs  heavy.  My  soul  is  over- 
whelmed." 

Then  she  sat  down  beside  him,  and  told  how 
she  had  si'rmised  all. 

"  I  knew  from  his  face  some  heavenly  cloud 
had  burst  in  blessing,"  she  said  ;  "and  I  knew 
at  the  bottom  must  lay  a  surrendered  will.  I 
went  into  his  room  this  morning  and  found  him 
with  such  a  face  pressed  against  his  window, 
eyes,  attitude,  everything  betokening  rapture 
unspeakable.     I  threw  my  arms  about  bim,  and 


2l8 


DKTTER    AND    WORSE. 


just  knelt  down  and  praised  God  that  my  boy 
was  wholly  his. 

"'You   prayed    out    of    my   heart,   mamma. 
How  did  you  know  I  had   yielded  .>'  he  asked. 
•<  I  low  do  we  know  the  clouds  arc  dissipated  ? " 
I  counter-questioned. 

"  •  Because  the  sun  is  out,'  he  laughed.  Then 
wc  hugged  each  other  and  sung,  and  I  think  he 
foigot  to  tell  me  his  story  because  I  seemed 
to  know,  and  I  forgot  to  question  him,  I  was  so 
satisfied." 


m 


SE. 


,ocl  that  my  boy 

heart,  mamma. 
Idcil?'  he  asked, 
i  arc  dissipated  ? " 

2  lauphcd.  Then 
;,  and  I  think  he 
ccausc  I  seemed 
ion  him,  I  was  so 


'VI 


hi;i( 


CIIArXER   XVII. 

AN    URGENT    APPEAL. 

Tiii  Heaven  alone  that  is  given  away, 
Tis  only  Cod  may  be  h.icl  for  the  .isking. 

JAMKS    RUbSKLL   LoWr.LU 

I   SAY,  Ray   Gardenell,   why  aren't    you    a 
Christian  ? " 
Ray  stopped  abruptly.     Such  a  question  from 
such  a  source  was  like  thunder  out  of  a  clear 

sky. 

.'  How  long  since  you  became  interested  in 

such   matters,   Ben?"  he   asked,    in    what   was 

intended  to  be  a  very  unconcerned  voice. 

"  Oh  !  well,  I  don't  know,"  taking  Ray's  arm 

as  they  strolled  along.     "  Fact  is,  Gardenell,  I 

never  had  any  bringing   up  in  that  direction. 

But  I've  always  sort  of  hankered  after  it,  as  the 

little  chaps  say.      My  father's  an    infidel,  you 

know,  and  don't  allow  anything  religious  around. 

219 


220 


AN    URGENT   APPEAL. 


but  I've  wondered  how  you,  with  your  teaching 
and  such  a  father  and  motlier,  can  be  — be  "  — 

"  Well,  out  with  it.  Can  be  such  a  rascal,  I 
suppose  you  would  say." 

"You  know  I  wouldn't  s.iy  any  such  thing," 
responded  his  friend  warmly.  "  There  isn't  a 
mean  or  rascally  thing  about  you ;  you're  a 
prime  fellow,  and  no  mistake,  but  — but"  — 

"I'm  not  like  my  brother,  for  instance.  I 
guess  you've  hit  a  problem,  Ben,  and  there  is 
no  answer  but  the  undcmonstrable  facts.  I  im 
the  one  goat  in  the  flock  ;  the  scapegoat,  we 
will  say,  for  elucidation,  and  all  the  Adamic 
inherited  depravity  which  should  be  shared 
equally  bv  the  members  of  the  family,  has 
fallen  to  me,  Ben,  what's  up.^  You  look  as 
grave  as  a  monument." 

"  I'm  in  earnest,  Ray." 

In  earnest  Ray  might  well  belitve.  When 
before  had  he  ever  heard  Ben  Gordon  speak  in 
that  tone  .'     He  grew  silent  himself. 

"  It  seems  as  if  there  ought  to  be  something 


"k 


I , 


1 


I 


.^^^mm-mmmm 


AN    URGENT   APPEAL. 


221 


1  your  teaching 
.n  be  — be  "  — 
such  a  rascal,  I 

ny  such  thing," 
"  There  isn't  a 
you  ;  you're  a 
It— but"  — 
For  instance.  I 
;n,  and  there  is 
jle  facts.  I  im 
;  scapegoat,  we 
all  the  Adamic 
)uld  be  shared 
;he  family,  has 
?     You   look  as 


believe.      When 

jordon  speak  in 

self. 

;o  be  something 


h  'lI» 


better  for  me,"  continued  Ben.  "  I'd  like  to  be 
different.  Perhaps  you  can  help  me,  Ray.  I've 
hoped  you  might.  You've  been  taught  religion 
all  your  life.  I  never  envied  any  one  as  I  did 
you  that  morning  I  called  at  your  house  so  early 
and  was  present  at  family  prayers.  Your  father 
prayed  for  me,  you  remember,"  his  voice  choking 
a  little.     "I   never  heard  myself    prayed    for 

before." 

Ray  was  much  moved.  "  Poor  old  fellow ! 
I've  had  it  all  the  days  of  my  life,  and  never 
valued  it  much.  You  :  ight  come  in  every 
morning.     We'd  all  like  w  have  you." 

"Father  stopped  that,"  answered  the  boy. 
shortly.  Then  looking  at  his  friend  wistfully  : 
..  S'.ppose  you  and  I  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  Gar- 
denell  ?  Suppose  we  try  to  be  what  we  ought 
to  be,"  slowly,  "what  your  father  would  like 
you  to  be.  I'd  be  green,  but  I'm  in  earnest  - 
and  you  could  tell  me  what  to  do." 

Ray  tried  to  laugh,  but  it  was  a  failure.     It 
struck  him  dimly  that  his  friend  was  laboring 


iy»fr„n^J^Tff^*-iA»l^rfXt4!f<^-"-'t^" 


•rir^"'    ■ 


222 


AN    URGENT    APPEAL. 


under  what  his  father  would  call  "  conviction," 
also  that  this  was  a  fresh  call  to  himself,  that 
God  was  multiplying  agencies  to  draw  him 
heavenward.  He  wished  with  all  his  heart  that 
Herbert  was  in  his  place,  but  he  wasn't.  It  was 
his  opportunity,  and  he  lost  it. 

"  You  don't,  can't  really  mean  that  you  want 
to  be  an  out-and-out  Christian }"  he  said,  rally- 
ing. "  It's  the  proper  thing,  and  I  don't  want 
to  discourage  you,  but  there's  lots  of  time  for 
that,  and  I  want  a  good  taste  of   other  things 

first." 

"  What  things  >  " 

"Oh!  they're  numerous;  too  much  so  to 
mention.  The  world  is  full  of  everything,  and 
I  haven't  begun  to  find  it  out.  Religion  is 
good ;  I  mean  to  have  it  myself  some  day,  but 

not  yet." 

They  walked  along  silently  for  a  spell,  then 
Gordon  asked  abruptly,  "What  would  have 
become  of  you  if  you  had  been  drowned  that 
night.?" 


,<!l 


sM^^iJB^^^is^m^m^^simi^^^^^S&^ii^^^^^^s^ 


"  conviction, 

)  himself,  that 

to    draw   him 

his  heart  that 

vasn't.     It  was 

that  you  want 
'  he  said,  rally- 
i  I  don't  want 
ots  of  time  for 
)f   other  things 


3  much  so  to 
everything,  and 
t.  ReUgion  is 
[  some  day,  but 

or  a  spell,  then 
at  would  have 
n  drowned  that 


AN    URGENT    APPEAL. 


223 


Ray  started.     "  I'd  have  been  lost,  sure  ;  but 
you  see  I   wasn't.     Ben.  what  a  streak  of  the 
blues  you  have  ;  you're  gloomy,  old  buy.     If  you 
go  to  getting  good,  you'll  die  young.     I  never 
told  you  that   joke,  did   I  ? "     And   then   Ray 
struck  into  the  story  of   Olive's   manoeuvre  to 
save  Herbert  from  an  early  death,  and  from  that 
ran  on  to  another  light  story  and  another. 

Ben  did  not  renew  the  conversation  ;  he  feared 
to      He  was  not  acquainted  with  any  Christian 
person  to  whom  he  could  talk  freely,  so  he  had 
thought    Ray   Gardenell   the    next   best   thing. 
But  now  he  reasoned  if  his  friend  could  afford 
to  put  off  salvation,  why  not  he  also  ?     He  stifled 
his   uneasiness.     Perhaps,   after  all,  his   father 
was  right  when  he  called  religion  a  sham,  and 
referred  to  the  children  of  Christians  to  prove 
how  unprolific  it  was  where  best  known.     But. 
no  ;  Ben  could  never  quite  forget  Mr.  Gar-lenell's 
facl  that  night  he  prayed  above  his  son's  uncon- 
scious form.     The  faith  so  simply  grand,  and  m 
its  very  submissiveness  so  sure  of  victory,  the 


.jl:^ 


AN    URGENT    APPEAL. 
224 

^n  cried,  "  H"l«:"'  '"'>  ''°"' 

'''='°^"  j;  :arneaa,g..,ne,,tsanaao■ 
corncr,  as  all  tbc  ^^^_  ^_^^|  ^„ 
<,„cnce  of  Ws  lathers  mfide 

i.nfl  never  done.        i^^"» 
'l'* '■'='^'""'""  was  .h=  conviction  under 
reality,  and  I  want  .t,    was  W 

„.ic,,hes,a.,ered,,or.e*a.».J^^^^^ 

«^"\nT«.-y-ed  towards 
Gardcnell  h.mself,  for  h^  '  ^^^^ 

rort.::;— --•^"'"•^"^ 

in  such  an  hour.  ,      i^ft  alone  with 

Raywasalmostarardtobej         ^^^^^^^^^^ 

Benforthenex.  few  days   fter^^  _^_, 

ai  school;  another  and  another  day  P 


'mS'iMMM 


,ert,  my  son, 
,  bad  thrilled 
Dbserved  in  a 
;nts  and  elo- 
cnds,  and  all 
'  Religion  is  a 
nviction  under 

,ht. 

applied  to  Mr. 
earned  towards 
,ddcn  him  that 
So  he  turned  to 
Gardenell's   son 
his  father's  God 

e  left  alone  with 
this  conversation, 
.inter  passed  and 
ad  quite  forgotten 

om  his  usual  place 
er  day  passed,  then 


AN    URGENT    APPEAL. 


225 


it  was  whispered  round  that  Gordon  was  very 
sick  ;  the  doctor  feared  he  would  not  live.  Ray 
was  much  shocked,  and  called  at  his  chum's 
house  on  h's  way  home.  The  lady  who  answered 
the  bell  said  no  visitors  were  allowed,  and  he 
had  to  be  content  in  sending  up  his  love  and  a 
little  bouquet. 

After  that  never  a  day  passed  that  a  nosegay 
did  not  find  its  way  to  Ben's  bedside  with  a  mes- 
sage from  his  friend,  and  at  last  one  morning  he 
was  told  that  Ben  had  begged  so  hard  to  see 
him  the  doctor  had  given  his  consent  provided 
all  exciting  topics  were  avoided.  So  Ray  was 
to  call  in  the  early  afternoon. 

He  was  there  promptly  at  the  appointed  time. 
The  nurse  warned  him  of  the  change  in  his 
friend's  appearance,  and  told  him  that  Bennie 
was  very  near  his  end,  and  he  must  show  no 
surprise  however  badly  he  looked,  for  his  father 
had  forbidden  any  one  speaking  to  him  of  death. 

"  Realiy  it  seems  as  if  the  poor  Colonel  thinks 
he  can  ward  off  death  by  ignoring  the  truth," 


tl'l 


•226 


AN    URGENT    APPEAL. 


sighed  the  woman,  "  and  there's  not  a  soul  of  us 

dares  disobey  him." 

Indeed  Ray  was  shocked  at  the  change  in  his 

friend.      This  poor,  thin,   exhausted   boy,  with 

unearthly  eyes  and  parched  lips,  was  so  unlike 
the  rugged,  fun-loving  friend  of  school-days. 
Yes,  he  was  dying,  Ray  could  see  that,  and  at 
first  could  do  nothing  but  hold  the  weak  little 
hand  in  his  own  and  swallow  hard  to  keep  back 

the  tears. 

But  Ben  was  overjoyed  to  see  him. 
"  You  look  so  good,  Ray.  I  haven't  seen  a  boy 
in  such  a  long  time.  You  mustn't  feel  bad  over 
me,  old  fellow.  1  want  you  to  be  your  best  self 
for  awhile  until  I  get  a  first-class  feed  of  you. 
I've  wanted  you  all  this  time,  and  the  flowers  did 
me  no  end  of  good  ;  they  always  seemed  to  say 
'  Good-morning,  Ben,'  as  you  used  to,  in  a  kind 
of  a  fresh  and  wholesome  way. 

"You're  a  lucky  fellow,  Ray.  You've  got 
everything.  I  never  knew  how  much  I  liked 
you  till  I  got  keeled  up  here.    Then  it  seemed 


r'tt'^  ^1>~»K^>,- 


■■  <  >=1»*V«wt*l«l!»«^«''ij 


PPEAL. 

:re's  not  a  soul  of  us 

at  the  change  in  his 
exhausted  boy,  with 
I  lips,  was  so  unlike 
end  of  school-days. 
)uld  see  that,  and  at 
hold  the  weak  little 
)W  hard  to  keep  back 

0  see  him. 

I  haven't  seen  a  boy 
mustn't  feel  bad  over 
u  to  be  your  best  self 
Tst-class  feed  of  you. 
ne,  and  the  flowers  did 
always  seemed  to  say 
you  used  to,  in  a  kind 
way. 

w,  Ray.  You've  got 
;w  how  much  I  liked 
lere.     Then  it  seemed 


AT   URGENT   APPEAL. 


227 


as  if  I'd  give  all  I  ever  owned  just  to  hear 
you  laugh  or  tell  one  of  your  funny  yarns.  But 
father  wouldn't  yield  till  the  last  minute  ;  but 
I've  gol  you  now  and  you  must  stay  as  long  as 
you  can,  and   I  want   to   hear  all  about  the 

fellows." 

It  took  Ben  a  good  while  to  say  all  this,  and 
he  was  terribly  exhausted  and  coughed  much 
when  it  was  said,  until  the  nurse  came  in  from 
another  room  and  gave  him  a  drink.  She  went 
right  out  again.  Evidently  the  boy  had  planned 
to  have  his  friend  to  himself,  and  Ray  stifled 
back  his  feelings  and  told  him  all  he  thought 
would  interest  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  getting  tired,"  Nurse  said 
at  length,  coming  in  to  administer  his  medicine. 
"  Just  a  few  minutes  more,  good  Mrs.  Wheel- 
ock,"  said  the  invalid  feebly,  and  she  disappeared 
with  a  shake  of  her  head  and  a  muttered  some- 
thing about  the  colonel. 

"Now,  Ray,  just  a  minute.     Oh  !  I  must  say 
this.     Ray,  I'm  going  to  die  young,  and  I'm  not 


tk:: 


itmMmmm. 


228 


AN   URGENT   APPEAL. 


good,"  said  the  poor  boy,  stretching  out  a  hand 
to  his  friend. 

"Don't  say  so,  Ben,  Perhaps  you  will  get 
better,  after  all;"  but  something  within  Ray 
contradicted  his  words. 

"  No,  I  won't.  I  never  can,  and  —  Ray  —  it's 
about  over ;  I'm  most  gone,  and  I'm  not  ready, 
You  won't  mind  if  I  talk  about  such  things  now, 
will  you,  old  fellow  .' " 

Ray  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  to  hide 
his  tears. 

"  Don't  cry,  Ray,  don't.  I  want  you  to  pray. 
I  want  you  to  teach  me  how  to  die.  You're  the 
only  one  I  ever  had  who  knew  anything  about 
it.  Father  is  good,  and  he  loves  me,  but  he 
wouldn't  have  me  taught  anything  religious, 
not  even  how  to  pray.  It  might  have  been 
different  if  mother  had  lived.  Somehow  I've 
missed  so  many  things ;  but  I've  wanted  mother 

most." 

Here  the  sick  boy  stopped  to  gather  breath, 
and  Ray  gave  a  little  sob. 


-   ..  .aaiiiiiiiiiwMiili 


lAL. 

tching  out  a  hand 

laps  you  will  get 
;hing  within  Ray 

and  —  Ray  —  it's 
nd  I'm  not  ready, 
t  such  things  now, 

his  hands  to  hide 

want  you  to  pray. 

0  die.     You're  the 
;w  anything  about 

loves  me,  but  he 
ny thing    religious, 

might  have  been 
d.  Somehow  I've 
I've  wanted  mother 

1  to  gather  breath, 


AN   URGENT   APPEAL. 


229 


"  Ray,  I  know  it's  real  —  religion,  I  mean.  I 
never  could  doubt  it  after  that  night  you  came 
so  near  drowning.  Your  father  prayed  that 
night.  O,  Ray  I  I  never  heard  anything  like  it. 
I  knew  if  there  was  a  great,  almighty  God  you 
would  live,  and  you  did,  and — and  I  never  could 
ask  you  to  join  in  a  scrape  after  that.  I  always 
thought  of  your  father,  and  I  knew  if  he'd  been 
mine,  I  —  couldn't  have  —  have  grieved  him. 
O,  Ray!  I  almost  prayed  myself  that  night, 
my  heart  was  so  hungry  for  the  great  God ;  I 
wanted  to  have  him  care  for  me.  You  know  all 
about  the  Bible  and  being  saved  —  tell  me  how." 

Never  was  such  a  boy  in  such  a  situation  as 
this.     What  could  he  do  ? 

"I  can't  help  you,  Ben,"  he  said  brokenly, 
"let  me  go  for  father." 

"My  father  would  not  allow  him  in  his  house." 

"  Herbert,  then  ? " 

"  I  might  die  while  you  were  gone,"  solemnly. 
"You  don't  realize  how  near  I  am  to  death. 
Then,  too,  I  am  tired ;  they  would  not  let  any 


? 


23° 


AN    'JRGENT    APPEAL. 


one  else  in.    You  are  here,  you  must  tell  me  all 

you  know." 

..  I  don't  know  anything."     Oh  !  what  an  ad- 
mission for  the  son  of  Christian  parents. 

"You  must,  you  must  know  something,  Ray. 
What  is  that  Bible  verse  about  God  so  loving  >" 
Ray  repeated  reverently.  "  God  so  loved  the 
world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that 
whosoever  bclicveth  in  him  should  not  perish, 
but  have  c  crlasting  life." 

.'That's   it,"  said   the  boy  with   satisfaction. 
.'  I  heard  your  father  preach  from  that  once.     It 
was  just  after  that  call  at  your  house  at  prayer 
time.     I  wanted  to  hear  him  again  -  you  know 
he  prayed  for  me.     It  was  in  the  summer,  and 
you  were   at   Bloomingle ;   father  was   off  that 
Sunday   with   a   party   of    friends -he    didn't 
often  leave  me  alone -and  when  he  found  out 
where  1  had   been   he  was  very  angry.     Poor 
father,  he  meant  it  for  my  best  good.     Ray.  I 
must  be  saved  through  Jesus  somehow  ?  " 
"  Yes,"  again  reverently. 


WW 


EAL. 


AN    URGENT    APPEAL. 


231 


3U 


must  tell  me  all 


Oh!  what  an  ad- 
ian  parents. 
3W  something,  Ray. 
ut  God  so  loving?" 
"God  so  loved  the 
r  begotten  Son,  that 

should  not  perish, 

»y  with   satisfaction. 
I  from  that  once.     It 
your  house  at  prayer 
n  again  — you  know 
in  the  summer,  and 
father  was   off  that 
friends  — he    didn't 
id  when  he  found  out 
is  very  angry.     Poor 
y  best  good.     Ray,  I 
ius  somehow  ?  '* 


"And  your  father  said  any  one  might  come 

to  Him." 

"  Yes,  any  one,  no  matter  how  bad ;  and  every 
one,  however  good,  must  come  through  Jesus  to 
be  accepted.     That's  the  only  way." 

"  How  can  I  come,  Ray  ? " 

Ray  was  silent.  If  ever  he  prayed  in  his  life 
it  was  then  ;  he  needed  help. 

"  Have  you  a  Bible  anywhere,  Ben  .'  " 

"There's  one  in  papa's  study,  but  he  never 
allowed  me  to  read  it.  You  see  I'm  nothing 
better  than  a  heathen,"  with  a  sad  smile. 

"And  I'm  another,"  said  Ray  remorsefully. 
"  Here's  one  verse,  Ben  :  '  If  we  confess  our  sins 
He  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins.'  " 

"  I  am  a  sinner,  I  do  confess,"  said  Ben. 

"  He  that  cometh  unto  me  I  will  in  no  wise 

cast  out." 

"I  want  to  come  — I  don't  know  how,"  said 

the  sick  boy  feebly. 

"  Listen,  Ben  ;  here's  a  verse  mamma  said  to 
a  poor  sick  man,  and  it  brought  him  to  Jesus : 


\      I 


232 


AN    URGENT    APPEAL. 


'  Believe  on  the  Lonl  Jesus  Christ  and  thou 
shalt  oe  saved.'  " 

"  How  can  I  believe?" 

"  Oh  !  you  know  ;  just  as  you  would  believe 
me,  I  suppose.  I  am  your  friend  and  I  would 
save  you  if  I  could,  but  I  can't.  He  is  your 
friend  an'l  died  to  save  you,  and  can  do  it.  Be- 
lieve it."     Surely  God  was  helping. 

"  I  do  believe,"  said  Ben  solemnly.  "  Ray, 
am  I  saved  > " 

"  You  must  be.  God  says  if  you  believe  you 
shall  be  saved,  and  he  always  says  the  truth."    " 

"Pi  ay  forme,  Ray." 

How  near  he  came  to  saying  "  I  can't."  But 
the  look  on  that  poor  eager,  dying  face  restrained 
him.  He  knelt  down  humbly  and  sobbed,  as 
Ben  slipped  a  thin  hand  into  his,  — 

"O,  Lord  !  I'm  a  dreadful  sinner,  won  e  than 
Ben,  but  I  don't  want  anything  for  myself.  Oh! 
if  you'll  only  save  Ben  because  —  because  it  was 
my  fault  he  didn't  come  long  ago.  I'm  to 
blame"  —  "No,  you  ain't,"  interjected  Ben  — 


-iutWIiiiiraSaWM*' 


ri'EAL. 


IS   Christ  and   thou 


5  you  would  believe 
friend  and  I  would 
can't.     He  is  your 

,  and  can  do  it.     Be- 

belping. 

n   solemnly.     "  Ray, 

s  if  you  believe  you 
's  says  the  truth,"    " 

■ing  "  I  can't."  But 
[lying  face  restrained 
iibly  and  sobbed,  as 
3  his,  — 

il  sinner,  won  e  than 
ling  for  myself.  Oh  ! 
use  —  because  it  was 
long  ago.  I'm  to 
"  interjected  Ben  — 


AN    URGENT   APPEAL. 

"  forgive  him,  please.  He  has  confessed  and  he 
does  believe,  and  you?  words  arc  true;  and  please 
let  him  know  they  are,  and  that  he  is  all  light, 
for  Jesus'  sake.     Amen." 

"  Amen,"  echoed  the  dying  boy.     "  Ray,  it's 
all  right ;  I  most  know  it  is." 

Ray  looked  troubled.  "  He  ought  to  know 
sure,"  he  though  ;  "papa  and  mamma  did,  and 
so  did  Hervic  when  he  was  converted."  Mrs. 
Wheelock  came  into  the  room  just  then  to  say 
he  must  certainly  go,  for  the  colonel  had  come 
and  would  be  angry  if  he  found  Ben  tired  out. 

Tired  out !     He'd  soon  be  whcie  people  never 
tired,  Ray  felt,  and  if  only  he  was  sure  he  was 
saved.     A  terrible  conviction  of  his  own  sin  in 
laughing  away  his  friend's  concern  months  ago 
had  seized  him ;   he  would  never  take   another 
moment's   comfort  in  life  unless  he  knew  Ben 
was   saved.      He   held   his   hand  tightly,   even 
kissed  his  cheek  and  stooping,  whispered,  "Hold 
on  to  Jesus,  he  will  carry  you  through,"  then  he 
darted  from  the  room. 


Ivv 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


AN    INSTRUMENT   FOR   GOOD. 

The  best  of  what  we  do  and  are 
Just  God  forgive. 

Wordsworth. 

"\  11  /"HEN  Ray  left  his  friend's  presence  so 

V  V  suddenly  it  was  to  repair  to  the  colo- 
nel's study.  He  knocked.  What  a  stern  face 
met  his. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir.  I've  been  to  Bennie  and  he's 
dying,  sir,  and  he  wants  to  be  saved." 

"  Are  you  saved  }  "  sharply. 

"No,  sir,"  with  mounting  color  and  downcast 
eyes. 

"  I  thought  not  from  your  past  record.  I 
think  Ben  can  take  his  chances  with  you,  if  you 
are  a  parson's  son."  ' 

"  O,  sir !  please,  sir,"  cried  Ray,  forgetting  to 
234 


y-.Tif->  ■T';.-i\"-.*-^v-t-^^"  raieMCKSR^-.'. 


'  =j---'1i.  i-x^ht  H  rsaf'.'ci.''^  jfr-i-y»^ff-' 


:viii. 

OR   GOOD. 

lo  and  are 

Wordsworth. 

riend's  presence  so 
repair  to  the  colo- 
What  a  stern  face 


)   Bennie   and   he's 
e  saved." 

r, 

color  and  downcast 

•ur  past    record.     I 
:es  with  you,  if  you 

Ray,  forgetting  to 


ssssmmk 


AN   INSTRUMENT   FOR   GOOD. 


235 


be  indignant,  "don't  blame  religion  or  father  for 
my  sins.  Ben  is  better  than  I  am  —  lots  better, 
sir;  but  our  own  goodness  cannot  take  us  to 
Heaven  ;  we  haven't  enough  of  it." 

"Ah  !  needs  to  be  patched  out.     If  you  have 
had  your  say  I  will  excuse  you  now,"  turning  as 

if  to  go. 

Ray  clutched  him  with  both  hands. 
"  You  couldn't  refuse  him  —  you  wouldn't  re- 
fuse him,  and  he  dying,  sir  !  " 

"  Who  says  he's  dying  ? "  fiercely. 
"  I  do,  sir ;  and  he  says  so  himself,  and  he 
wants  help,  and  oh ! "  tears  starting  to  his 
eyes,  "it's  my  fault  if  he's  lost,  for  I  knew  the 
right  and  might  have  helped  him.  If  you'd 
only  let  father  come  and  see  him,  sir,  it  would 
lift  a  load  from  my  heart." 

'  I  want  neither  you  nor  your  father,  nor  any 

other  canting,  ranting  religionist  under  my  roof." 

Then  Ray  ran  off  quickly,  sure  he  would  be 

ungentlemanly  if  he  heard  another  such  epithet 

applied  to  his  father. 


'i 


236 


AN    INSTRUMENT   FOR   GOOD. 


What  could  he  do  ?  The  weight  of  that  soul 
was  on  him.  Papa  couldn't  go,  but,  happy 
thought!  there  was  mamma.  The  colonel  had 
not  really  forbidden  her,  though  the  spirit  of 
his  command  included  them  all.  "Mamma  is 
neither  canting  nor  ranting,"  he  muttered. 

A  very  short  time  after  mother  and  son  stood 
before  Colonel  Gordon's  mansion.  Ray  had 
told  his  mother  little ;  nothing  must  interfere 
with  bis  plan.  He  had  no  need  to  fear,  however; 
Yensic  Gardenell  would  have  faced  the  legions 
of  darkness  to  rescue  a  soul. 

Ray  had  left  the  front  door  ajar.  It  was  so 
still ;  no  one  had  passed  in  or  out.  They 
mounted  the  stairs  softly  and  he  halted  a  mo- 
ment before  his  friend's  chamber  to  listen. 
Not  a  sound  from  within.  Colonel  Gordon  had 
taken  one  hasty  glance  at  the  white  face  on  the 
pillow  and  retreated  to  his  study  where  he  was 
now  walking  rapidly  up  and  down.  His  son 
die  >  Never,  never  !  His  only  son  !  He  could 
not,  would  not  give  him  up. 


■  -.*«^i*a3«««w*^**f§wfe«vf  ^ 


it-fts'3^!W«tw^aw*".-i^ 


JiS£a2j2a.jusiSL:_ 


OR   GOOD. 

weight  of  that  soul 

I't   go,   but,   happy 

The  colonel  had 

Jugh   the   spirit   of 

all.     "Mamma  is 

he  muttered. 
)ther  and  son  stood 
ansion.  Ray  had 
ing  must  interfere 
:d  to  fear,  however; 
!  faced  the  legions 

or  ajar.  It  was  so 
in  or  out.  They 
d  he  halted  a  mo- 
hambcr  to  listen, 
oionel  Gordon  had 
white  face  on  the 
tudy  where  he  was 
1  down.  His  son 
ly  son !   He  could 


AN    INSTRUMENT   FOR   GOOD. 


237 


Quietly  Ray  opened  the  chamber  door,  bec>.- 
oned  the  nurse  to  come  out,  then  slipped  his 
mother  in  and  felt  satisfied. 

"  My  mother  knows  everything  and  has  been 
with  the  sick  and  dying  ;  she  will  help,  not 
hurt  him,"  he  said.  And  Nurse,  whose  eyes 
were  red  with  tears  and  whose  conscience  smote 
her  over  this  boy  drifting  into  eternity  unpre- 
pared, soothed  herself  by  saying  it  was  too  late 
to  prevent  anything  now,  even  if  the  colonel 
had  just  issued  orders  forbidding  any  one  out- 
side of  the  household  excepting  the  doctor,  see- 
ing the  boy. 

Ray  stood  guard  at  the  door.  He  should  like 
to  hear  Colonel  Gordon  or  any  one  else  call  his 
mother  a  "canting,  ranting  religionist."  He 
could  discover  the  voice  of  prayer,  then  the 
sweetest  and  lowest  of  tender  hymns,  and  she 
was  beside  him.  It  took  mother  so  short  a  time 
to  do  things. 

No  need  to  ask  her  if  Ben  was  really  saved. 
Her  shining  face  satisfied  his  heart.     It  felt  so 


. '  ---  ■■:;'.' :_'i^.-  ^a?,.'. 


238 


AN   INSTRUMENT   FOR  GOOD. 


!  1 


I    li 


¥ 


light  to  what  it  did  an  hour  ago.  Then  it  was 
sweet,  on  reaching  home,  to  have  her  kiss  him, 
and  looking  in  his  eyes  say,  as  only  she  knew  how 
to  say,  •'  My  boy  has  been  honored.  Erelong 
Heaven  will  have  another  saint,  and  through  his 
ministry." 

"O,  mother!  I  don't  deserve  it,"  he  said, 
bursting  into  tears  and  confessing  all.  "He 
might  have  been  saved  long  ago  but  for  me. 
God  is  good,  mamma.  I  never  could  have  borne 
it  had  he  been  lost  through  me." 

How  Yensie  prayed;  bow  she  hoped  this 
might  be  the  turning-point  in  this  young  life,  as 
she  solemnly,  yet  tenderly,  laid  before  him  the 
magnitude  of  the  sorrow  which  he  had  been 
spared. 

A  day  or  two  after  young  Gordon  died.  Ray 
took  the  flowers  his  mother  cut  for  him,  and 
went  to  take  his  last  look  at  the  dead  face.  He 
met  the  colonel  in  the  hall.  "  What,  sir !  you 
are  here  again,"  said  the  gentleman  sharply. 
"  I  thought  I  forbade  you  entering  this  house." 


.  ■utmii'^umtimi^Kiimiisxssxsssim 


^a^jii-,:!^^.- 


?"0R   GOOD. 

ago.  Then  it  was 
have  her  kiss  him, 

s  only  she  knew  how 
honored.     Erelong 

int,  and  through  his 

serve  it,"  he  said, 
tifessing  all.  "He 
ff  ago  but  for  me. 
ler  could  have  borne 
le." 

w  she    hoped   this 
this  young  life,  as 
lid  before  him  the 
I'ch  he  had   been 

fordon  died.     Ray 
cut  for  him,  and 
e  dead  face.     He 
"What,  sir!   you 
ntleman  sharply, 
■ring  this  house." 


AN   INSTRUMENT   FOR   GOOD. 


239 


"  I  knew  you  would  let  me  see  his  face  again," 
said  Ray  gently,  reading  the  sorrow  under  this 
sternness.  "  These  are  his  favorite  flowers  ;  my 
mother  sent  them ;  she  always  remembers  our 
likes." 

"  How  did  she  know  he  liked  them  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  he  happened  in  to  our  house  one  day 
when  mamma's  winoow  garden  was  doing  its 
best,  and  these  so  took  his  fancy  that  she 
pinned  a  bunch  in  his  button-hole.  After  that 
she  often  sent  him  a  little  bouquet  when  they 
were  in  bloom.  I  thought  he'd  like  them  in  his 
hand  now." 

The  man  looked  at  the  boy,  a  kindlier  light 
coming  into  his  eyes.     His  son  had  loved  him. 

"  So  you  think  Bennie  has  likes  yet } "  he 
said  half-musingly. 

"  Why,  sir,  if  there  is  a  Bennie,  he  is  our 
Bennie  with  just  the  likes  he  always  had." 

"True  — if"  — 

"  And  there's  no  if  about  it,  sir.  My  mother 
talked  to  him  and  he  was  ready,  and  where  he  is 


PV» 


1 1 


240 


AN    INSTRUMENT   FOR   GOOD. 


every  like  and  love  is  stronger  and  sweeter; 
mamma  says  so." 

The  gentleman  still  looked  at  him  out  of  half- 
dreaming  eyes.  How  his  soul  had  been  stirred 
since  his  child  died  ! 

"  Then  he  loves  you  and  me  better,  you  think, 
and  knows  we  — we  miss  him  to-day,"  with  a 
tremor  in  his  voice.  "  That  is  a  pleasant  belief, 
at  least." 

"  It  was  his  belief,  sir ;  and  it  is  the  belief  of 
almost  everybody  who  ever  heard  of  Jesus.  My 
mother  says  it  is  the  belief  of  all  the  heroes  the 
world  has  ever  had." 

"Your  mother."  The  gentleman  almost 
smiled.  "  She  is  authority,  it  seems.  How  did 
it  happen  you  brought  her  here  when  I  forbade 
the  house  to  any  of  your  kind  .>  " 

"  You  did  not  mention  her  by  name,  sir  ;  and 
'  canting,  ranting,'  doesn't  describe  her.  I  had 
to  have  some  one,, because  it  was  all  my  fault 
Bennie  did  not  seek  Jesus  long  ago." 

The  gentleman  winced,  yet  he  said,  "  Tell  me 


..^^(i£:.-fjmmmf::mi&~> 


OR  GOOD. 


AN  INSTRUMENT  FOR  GOOD. 


241 


mger  and  sweeter; 

d  at  him  out  of  half- 
oul  had  been  stirred 

le  better,  you  think, 

lim  to-day,"  with  a 

is  a  pleasant  belief, 

d  it  is  the  belief  of 
heard  of  Jesus.  My 
of  all  the  heroes  the 

gentleman  almost 
it  seems.  How  did 
here  when  I  forbade 
id  ? " 

;r  by  name,  sir  ;  and 
describe  her.     I  had 

it  was  all  my  fault 
3ng  ago." 
et  he  said,  "  Tell  me 


about  it."  He  began  to  like  this  frank  boy  who 
had  been  his  son's  companion,  who  knew  portions 
of  1  ■"  life  that  this  father  did  not  —  this  agonized 
father  who  had  watched  his  one  treasure  care- 
fully night  and  day  only  to  have  it  stolen  away. 

When  the  story  was  ended,  without  a  word 
the  colonel  led  the  way  to  the  drawing-room. 
How  cold  and  dreary  it  looked  in  all  its  splendor 
beside  the  cheerful  home  parlors  full  of  life  and 
light.  And  that  covered  something  —  how  its 
presence  added  to  the  effect. 

Silently  the  boy  stood  as  the  man  uncovered 
that  face  and  let  his  tears  drop  on  the  soft,  fair 
hair.  Silently  the  father  stood  and  watched  him 
as  he  put  the  flowers  between  the  stiff  fingers, 
patting  them  gently  in  half-caress  and,  stooping, 
kissed  the  cold  lips. 

"  It's  a  dreadful  thing  to  stand  betw^een  any 
one  and  Jesus,"  he  said  simply,  lifting  his  eyes 
to  the  colonel's  face.  "  I'll  never  do  it  again." 
Then  he  extended  his  hand  frankly,  and  as 
frankly  it  was  clasped. 


I       1 


242 


AN    INSTRUMENT   FOR   GOOD. 


"  He  would  l,ke  you  here  to-morrow."  said 
the  gentleman  as  he  conducted  him  to  the  door. 

.'  ni  be  here,  sir,"  with  the  flashing  of  bright 
eyes  to  the  face  above. 

Ray  was  invited  to  the  funeral.  More  than 
that,  before  night  fell  Col.  Gordon  called  on  Mr. 

Gardenell. 

•<  Wifie,  I  am  to  conduct  the  services  over 
Ray's  little  friend,"  said  the  c'^ergyman  later. 
And  the  colonel  said  to  his  wondering  friends, 
..  Ben  would  desire  it  if  he  was  consulted.  His 
preferences  shall  be  respected." 

Ray  had  sown  better  than  he  knew.  His 
words  over  that  dead  face  were  not  forgotten  by 
his  listener:  "It's  a  dreadful  thing  to  stand  be- 
tween any  one  and  Jesus. 

Col.  Gordon  repeated  them  slowly  that  night 
after  f'.e  funeral,  ctandin  before  a  life-size  pict- 
ure of  his  son.  and  recalling  ti.e  sneer  he  had 
seen  on  young  lips  during  the  service  that  day  ; 
lips  he  had  taught  to  sneer.  If  this  religion  his 
wife,  his  son  had  believed  in,  were  a  reality  after     ^ 


-.,®S;ig»a«»>a(i,a*aiitei'4'SKto;,. 


FOR   GOOD. 

ere  to-morrow,"  said 
icted  him  to  the  door, 
the  flashing  of  bright 

:  funeral.     More  than 
Gordon  called  on  Mr. 

jct  the  services  over 
1  the  clergyman  later, 
his  wondering  friends, 
le  was  consulted.  His 
icted." 

than  he  knew.  His 
;  were  not  forgotten  by 
idful  thing  to  stand  be- 


them  slowly  that  night 
before  a  life-size  pict- 
dling  ti.e  sneer  he  had 
ig  the  service  that  day  ; 
2er.  If  this  religion  his 
;d  in,  were  a  reality  after 


AN    INSTRUMENT   FOR   G001>. 


243 


all!  Had  that  prayer  his  dying  wife  breathed 
over  her  baby's  head  anything  to  do  with  his 
end  f 

"I'll  never  do  it  again,  Bennic,"  he  said 
firmly,  repeating  intentionally  the  vow  of  his 
boy's  friend. 

He  did  not.  He  was  at  Mr.  Gardenell's  church 
the  next  Sabbath  morning.  He  hired  a  pew 
there  ;  one  so  situated  that  he  could  watch  Ray's 
face  during  the  .sei-vice.  He  took  the  boy's 
hand  as  he  passed  out  and  looked  in  his  eyes 
with  almost  tenderness  ;  when  Ray  introduced 
him  to  his  mother  he  touched  her  hand  revcr- 
ently>  and  bowed  over  it  as  a  courtier  might  over 
a  queen's,  as  the  delighted  lad  informed  Olive. 


i.^W*i' ti.Vt.  :a'/rf^'.»-^ 


UUm 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


"TIME    flies!' 


Evil  news  rides  post,  while  good  news  bait:. 


Milton. 


HKRBERT  GARDENELL  began  to  be- 
lieve the  truth  of  the  old  adage,  "Time 
flies  ! "  as  he  looked  at  his  children.  Olive,  who 
had  stood  sti'.l  so  long,  lengthened  perceptibly 
this  last  year,  Eddie  had  grown  an  inch,  while 
his  eldest  son  was  as  tall  as  himself. 

Herbert  was  sevente^i  now,  and  had  really 
entered  college.  Mother  congratulated  him  on 
his  success,  and  kissed  the  manly  face  as  she 
wondered  what  they  would  do  without  him.  As 
for  Olive,  she  went  about  with  such  a  melancholy 
countenance,  for  a  week  after  his  departure,  that 
she  won  the  sympathy  of  all. 

She  did  not  eat ;  was  not  the  seat  beside  hers 
vacant .'      How   could   she    sing  and   Hervie's 

244 


!^ 


i-1 


TIME   FLIES! 


245 


XIX. 


lES 


e  good  news  bait:.. 

MlLTOM. 

:NELL  began  to  be- 
the  old  adage,  "  Time 
',  children.    Olive,  who 
jngthened  perceptibly 
grown  an  inch,  while 
IS  himself, 
now,  and  had   really 
congratulated  him  on 
:he  manly  face  as  she 
d  do  without  him.     As 
vith  such  a  melancholy 
iter  his  departure,  that 
all. 

ot  the  seat  beside  hers 
he    sing  and   Hervie's 

^44 


tenor  missing  '  Her  lessons  never  were  so  hard, 
and  no  one  knew  how  to  help  her  as  the  brother 
gone.     How  long  the  days  were  ! 

Papa  tried  in  vain  to  console  her.  But  pres- 
ently came  such  a  real,  jolly,  lovc-fuU  letter,  as 
newsy  and  delightful  almost  as  a  talk  with  Her- 
bert's self,  and  she  felt  better.  The  honor  of 
receiving  a  letter  addressed  to  herself,  the  ex- 
citement of  answering  it,  and  the  acquaintance 
she  began  to  feel  with  her  brother's  new  sur- 
roundings and  associates  quite  inspirited  her, 
and  she  soon  recovered  her  wonted  gayety. 

Every  week  she  received  a  little  missive,  and 
every  week  returned  an  answer.     Ere  long  she 

felt  she  quite  knew  Prof.  B and  Dr.  W , 

and  as  to  Stanton  Cartwright,  he  seemed  like  an 
old  friend.  Indeed  she  had  met  him  when  a  very 
small  child  during  their  sojourn  one  year  in  Ver- 
mont, whither  the  doctor  had  ordered  mamma 
for  her  health.  He  had  dragged  her  on  his  sled 
quite  often,  and  his  mother  had  been  very  kind 
to  her  mother  while  she  was  so  delicate. 


'iirfniT'--'""*'  ^ 


I  i 
I' 

I 

i! 

if 


1 1  *• 


246 


"TIME    flies!  " 


Olive  renicmbcrcd  nothing;  of  this,  but  was 
very  Klad  to  know  it  through  Herbert,  and  she 
voted  her  brother's  classmate  and  chum  "a  very 
nice  boy."  Whether  Stanton  was  flattered  or 
not  by  this  cognomen,  he  was  certainly  much 
amused  by  the  little  bits  of  her  epistles  that 
Herbert  read  to  him,  and  began  to  share  his  sis- 
ter's letters  in  return  — his  precious,  only  sister 
Wingate,  or  datty,  as  they  called  her,  the  next 
in  age  to  himself  in  the  family,  and,  therefore, 
more  than  a  year  older  than  Olive. 

Mr.  and  Mr.s.  Gardenrll  had  pleasant  recollec- 
tions of  the  fresh-faced  country  boy  they  used 
to  know,  and  were  glad  their  son  had  found  so 
congenial  a  friend.  Their  good  opinion  of  the 
young  man  was  heightened  when  Herbert  brought 
him  hoi  e  to  spend  the  short  Christmas  vaca- 
tion. 

Stanton,  like  Herbert,  hud  the  ministry  in 
view,  and  Mr.  Gardcnell  felt  almost  as  if  an- 
other son  had  been  added  to  him  ere  the  fort- 
tii"-ht  was   o^  5  n     Olive  condescended  to  share 


8 


IL 


ES!" 

ing  i)f  this,  but  was 
igh  Herbert,  and  she 
ite  and  chum  "  a  very 
iton  was  flattered  or 
;  was  certainly  much 

of  her  epistles  that 
)egan  to  share  his  sis- 
s  precious,  only  sister 
y  called  her,  the  next 
family,  and,  therefore, 
m  Olive. 

had  pleasant  recollec- 
ountry  boy  they  used 
icir  son  had  found  so 
r  good  opinion  of  the 

when  Herbert  brought 
short  Christmas  vaca- 

hud   the   ministry  in 

felt    almost  as  if  an- 

d  to  him  ere  the  fort- 

condcsccndcd  to  share 


«'  TIME   FLIES  ! 


he,  caresses  with  him.  though  charily.  Mrs.  Gar- 
d.ncll  took  him  into  her  heart.  Ray  voted  him  a 
..big  thing.-  while  the  little  fellows  followed 
him  around  as  they  did  their  brothers. 

To  Herbert  this  new  friend  w.s  flesh  of  his 
flesh  They  shared  the  same  bed.  read  the  same 
books,  preferred  the  same  studies,  were,  in  fact, 
a  "David  and  Jonathan."  as  Ray  said,  adding 
pertinently,  "but  which  is  which  might  puzzle 

the  doctors." 

Stanton  left  Mr.  Gardenell's  mansion  feeling 
that  his  life  had  taken  on  "Whole  acres."  as  he 

expressed  it  to  Mr.  Gardenell  when  that  gentle- 
n.an  bade  him  "Good-by  land  a  welcome  home 

any  time,  my  boy."  as  the  train  whistled  out  of 

the  depot. 

It  was  duU  music  after  they  were  gone  to 
Raymond.     '<  A  fellow  might  as  well  cram  and 
eet  ready  to  follow  them  as  soon  as  possible, 
he  said,  and   consequently  went  at   his  books 
with  a  will,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  father 
and  teacher. 


243 


TIME   FLIES  ! 


iff 


f 


# 


"  A  brilliant  boy  ;  needs  sticktuitiveness  ;  he 
has  the  material  in  him,"  one  of  the  teachers 
had  s?.id  a  few  days  before  to  Mr.  Gardenell. 
"  Give  him  real  incentive  and  he  will  make  his 
mark  in  the  world."  And  his  father  smiled  and 
sighed  as  he  prayed,  for  he  believed  that  the 
only  incentive  sufficient  to  make  any  life  a  suc- 
cess must  ere  long  be  his  son's.  Did  not  his 
God  answer  prayer.' 

Herbert  shared  his  next  vacation  between 
Blooir.ingle  and  his  friend's  home  in  Maine, 
whither  they  had  moved  from  Vermont.  Ray 
went  with  him,  but  their  stay  was  short,  for 
mamma  needed  her  big  boy,  and  her  big  boy 
needed  mamma.  "  Ray  and  I  are  going  to  bring 
back  Gatty  Cartwright  with  us,"  wrote  Herbert. 
"  Stan  is  needed  on  the  farm,  but  Gatty  is  not, 
and  if  she  is  she  must  be  spared,  for  she  is  get- 
ting thin  with  overwork,  her  mother  has  been 
sick  so  long,  and  Stan  is  anxious  about  her." 

So,  sure  enough,  when  the  boys  came  they 
brought  with  them  a  dark-eyed,  dark-haired  little 


E  ; 


.^^.aw«eM  »*«?«! 


S"^^^3SKK-BaB!%:««iS«iW«sss>^'* 


sticktuitiveness ;  he 
me  of  the  teachers 
;  to  Mr.  Gardenell. 
id  he  will  make  his 
is  father  smiled  and 
e  believed  that  the 
make  any  life  a  suc- 
son's.     Did  not  his 

t  vacation  between 
t's  home  in  Maine, 
rom  Vermont.  Ray 
stay  was  short,  for 
y,  and  her  big  boy 
I  are  going  to  bring 
us,"  wrote  Herbert, 
rm,  but  Gatty  is  not, 
spared,  for  she  is  get- 
ler  mother  has  been 
xious  about  her." 
the  boys  came  they 
yed,  dark-haired  little 


"  TIME   FLIES  ! 


249 


maiden  of  fourteen,  the  strangest  mixture  of 
coyness  and  piquancy  imaginable.     Always   so 
sweet,  and   quiet,  and   lady-like,   that   all  were 
drawn  to  her  instinctively,  she  was  yet  so  full 
of  mischief  and  repartee  that  even  Ray  found 
his  equal,  and  Papa  Gardenell  a  constant  source 
of  fresh  delight.     What  a  month  at  Bloomingle 
would  be  to  one  of  just  Gatty  Cartwrighfs  tem- 
perament only  those  like  her  could  guess ;  and 
what  her  queer  questionings,  funny  speculations 
and  pertinent  comment:;  were  to  the  Gardenells, 

only  they  can  tell. 

"She  is  uncommon,  wifie,"  said  paterfamilias, 
"  a  rare  flower.     Do  you  notice  how  she  watches 
my  experiments  and  how  quaint  her  suggestions 
are,  and  how  her  eyes  glow  over  some  of  our 
readings  >     She  is  big  -  fathoms  deep  ;  it  would 
be  beautiful  to  study  her  soul  fully,  to  fashion 
and  develop  her  nature.     Then  she  is  so  simply 
and  truly  religious.     A  safe  companion  for  our 
boys  and  girl.    V/ho  would  guess  that  only  a 
year  and  a  half  lay  between  her  and  Olive  ? " 


S^fc 


-^' 


ai«;«JSai4.'i    JMsS^: 


250 


"  TIME    FLIES  !  ' 


They  all  missed  her  when  she  went.  Bloom- 
ingle  lost  its  charm.  No  one  minded  going 
back  to  the  city  after  that ;  they  would  not  ex- 
pect to  meet  her  at  every  turn  in  that  other 
home.  School  was  to  begin  soon.  Herbert 
must  return  to  college.  Suddenly  one  day  his 
eye  brightened  as  he  caught  sight  of  a  dainty 
missive  waiting  by  his  dinner  plate.  He  put  it 
in  his  pocket,  blushing  fiercely,  when  he  met  his 
father's  eye. 

"  Private,"  said  Ray  slyly. 

"  Nothing  to  blush  over,  my  son,"  said 
mamma.  "  Papa  liked  such  letters  once  him- 
self." 

"Only  received  one  in  my  life,  however,"  com- 
mented papa,  as  if  seeking  commiseration. 

"Why,  papa,  this  is  only  a  friendly  letter," 
said  Herbert. 

"So  was  mine,  my  son." 

"I'm  sure  there  isn't  a  line  in  it  I  would  not 
willingly  have  you  read." 

"Nor  one   in   mine   you   might    not    enjoy. 


■  ilW*:»*e*»»»aa«l(m'" 


iSa'ia^fei.^  -M 


n  she  went.  Bloom- 
one  minded  going 
they  would  not  ex- 
turn  in  that  other 
gin  soon.  Herbert 
uddenly  one  day  his 
it  sight  of  a  dainty 
er  plate.  He  put  it 
:ly,  when  he  met  his 


er,    my    son,"    said 
I    letters    once   him- 

life,  however,"  com- 
;ommiseration. 
f  a  friendly  letter," 


ine  in  it  I  would  not 


might    not    enjoy. 


fc_j.:.iiiits^.l1ffiiiiia2i.->4S5r 


"TIME   flies!" 


251 


Co«e  up  .0  the  study  after  dmncr  and  le  J 
*owit.oyou.  Oh!  man,™  was  a  funny  ht.e 
girt  in  those  days,  and  scarcely  older  than  our 

"'Swas  tired  of  study,  tired  of  play,  tired  of 
everything.    He  was  growing,  and  at  that  res^ 
less  age  so  hard  to  pilot  boys  over,  espe  .a  1 
,oys  of  a  certain  ten-peranrent.    Man,n,a  called 
the -puppy  age,"  and  not  without  reason,  for  Ray 
«ase!l  Olive  and  the  little  hoys  constantly,  was 

always  sitting  with  runbs  extended,  to  the  end. 
germent  of  all  who  passed  hin,,  and  really  acted 

somethncs  as  if  he  were  forgetting  the  pretty 
polite  n,anners  for  which  he  had  been  noted 
He  had  been  in  disgrace  at  schooltwcethts 

.eeU,  once  with  papa,  and  .an,n,a  bad  iustsa^ 
„„„  son!  "in  such  a  sorrowful  tone  that  he 
,an  off  .obis -room  angry  with  himself,  out  of 
.ortswtth  the  world  in  genera,,  and  wondertng 

if  life  was  worth  living,  after  all. 

Tbatinsuchamoodheshouldgouptotbe 

„,d  attic  to  bide  his  misery  is  no  marvel,  but 


'1f' 


:iai..Jii'?*iSt':.ii-i 


252 


"  TIME   FLIES  ! 


m 


that  he  should  hit  upon  just  the  comfort  he  did 
is  surely  another  proof  of  the  depravity  of  all 
things  earthly. 

The  attic,  deserted  by  the  older  children  for 
some  time  past,  was  beginning  to  hold  attrac- 
tions for  the  younger  ones.  The  day  before 
had  been  stormy,  and  Harry  and  Eddie  had 
enjoyed  themselves  in  masquerade  fashion  dress- 
ing themselves  in  all  the  garments  they  could 
find.  Now,  as  Ray  flung  himself  down,  his 
hand  hit  a  sailor  hat  and  immediately  his  face 
brightened. 

He  tried  it  on.  A  little  tight,  a  little  shabby, 
but  "  quite  a  thing,  after  all,"  he  pronounced  it. 
"  I'll  bet  it's  the  one  Herv  had  the  summer 
father  bought  him  that  sailor  suit.  I  wonder  if 
that  was  ever  worn  out  ?  Come  to  think,  Herv 
outgrew  it.     Wonder  if  it's  around  here  .' " 

He  got  up  lazily  and  looked  about.  "  Here's 
the  pants  — yes,  and  the  blouse  ;  those  little  fel- 
lows have  dug  them  out.  Not  at  all  bad.  I 
believe  they'd  fit  me."     And  quick  as  a  flash, 


;s!" 

the  comfort  he  did 
the  depravity  of  all 

e  older  children  for 
ning  to  hold  attrac- 
;s.  The  day  before 
rry  and  Eddie  had 
uerade  fashion  dress- 
rarments  they  could 
;  himself  down,  his 
immediately  his  face 

tight,  a  little  shabby, 
,"  he  pronounced  it. 
^rv  had  the  summer 
[or  suit.  I  wonder  if 
"ome  to  think,  Herv 
around  here .'" 
ked  about.  "Here's 
ouse  ;  those  little  fel- 
Not  at  all  bad.  I 
.nd  quick  as  a  flash, 


"TIME   FLIES  ! 


253 


all  his  melancholy  dissipated,  Ray  ran  down  to 
his   room,  locked  the    door,   and   donned   the 

clothes. 

Supper-time  came,  and  a  letter  from  Herbert 
who  had  been  back  to  school  for  a  month. 

"  Where's  Ray  ?  "  asked  papa  ;  "  here's  a  note 
inclosed  for  him."  But  nobody  knew  where  he 
was.  He  had  been  home  from  school,  mamma 
knew  ;  the  maid  had  seen  him  enter  his  room, 
but  he  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  house  now. 

An  hour  passed  —  two  ;  mamma  was  alarmed, 
and   his   father  went   iii   search   of  him.     His 
school  friends  had  not  seen  him,  and  when  bed- 
time arrived  and  he  had  not  appeared,  his  father 
reported   at    the   police   stations.      The  whole 
night  was  spent  in  searching  for  the  missing 
boy.     His  room  was  thoroughly  t.xamined,  but 
there  was   neither  word  nor  sign  of  his  where- 
abouts.    Indeed,  the  sight  of  his  school-clothes 
kicked  under  the   bed  added  to   the   problem. 
His   cloches-press  and  drawers  showed  not  an 
article  of  clothing  missing ;  even  his  every-day 


;S-,V.-f    ri^).^j>V.,-.«-..?aa:-ft^^,.',.;.^yf;jVs^',:;^y^^.^^        .. 


i   I 


254 


"TIME    FLIES  !" 


I     11 


hat  lay  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  Before 
another  night  the  rivers  and  harbor  had  been 
dragged,  detectives  hired,  rewards  offered,  tel- 
egrams sent  to  various  quarters,  cablegrams 
delivered  at  different  ports  to  meet  outward- 
bound  vessels,  for  he  might  have  taken  ship. 
Everything  was  done  that  could  be  done,  and 
yet  there  was  not  the  slightest  dew  to  his  dis- 
appearance. No  one  had  seen  him  ;  no  one 
knew  anything  about  him.  Ray  Gardcncll  had 
disappeared  as  suddenly,  as  mysteriously  as  if 
the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed  him. 

Here  was  a  sorrow  Mr.  Gardenell  could  not 
bear  for  his  wife ;  here  was  a  burden  he  could 
not  lighten.  Without  God,  how  could  they  have 
lived  the  months  that  followed  } 

Olive  wisely,  and  without  a  word  to  any  one, 
telegraphed  at  once  for  Herbert.  Papa  was  so 
busy,  mamma  so  stricken  that  naturally  her 
heart  longed  for  her  comforter.  Quickly  the 
message  was  answered  by  his  presence ;  the  few 
words   "  Come   home   at    once,"    startled    him. 


Jlki- 


-  ^.:jj  i.'Kaiiaffiv^j^jiiiaij-aij'. 


"  TIME   FLPiS  ! 


255 


the  room.  Before 
d  harbor  had  been 
ewards  offered,  tel- 
Liarters,  cablegrams 
to  meet  outward- 
t  have  taken  ship, 
could  be  done,  and 
esi  clew  to  his  dis- 
scen  him ;  no  one 
Ray  Gardencll  had 
;  mysteriously  as  if 
'allowed  him. 
jardencll  could  not 
a  burden  he  could 
low  could  they  have 
id.? 

a  word  to  any  one, 
rbert.  Papa  was  so 
that  naturally  her 
orter.  Quickly  the 
s  presence  ;  the  few 
ice,"   startled    him. 


Catching  up  his  sister,  who  was  watching  for 
him  at  train-time,  he  stepped  into  the  parlor  and 
said,  "  Now,  darling,  tell  me  all." 

It  was  soon  told,  and,  comforted  by  his  pres- 
ence, his  voice,  his  strong  assurance,  "  God  will 
keep  him  safe,"  she  lay  quietly  on  the  couch 
where    he    placed     her,    and     he     sought    his 

mother. 

She  was  in  her  room  on  her  knees ;  she  lived 
there  most  of  the  time  lately.  Her  husband 
was  out  to  hear  if  any  news  had  come  yet. 

"  Mamma,  dear  mamma  !  "  He  was  kneeling 
beside  her,  holding  her  to  his  heart  close,  close, 
and  with  every  pressure  bringing  comfort  to  her 

heart. 

"  He  is  safe,  mamma !  God  sees  him,  knows 
where  he  is,  watches  him  ;  he  is  safe.  Nothing, 
no  one,  is  ever  lost  that  God  keeps.  If  we  knew 
all,  we  might  not  be  able  to  keep  or  save  him, 
but  God  can  and  will.  '  All  power  is  given  to 
me  in  heaven  and  earth  '  —  to  our  Jesus,  mother. 
Earth  is  as  safe  as  heaven  ;  we  never  get  out  of 


1- , 

'I 
I   It 


11 


n 


256 


"  TIME   FLIES  !  " 


his  reach,  his  arms,  Ray  is  not  dead ;  he  can- 
not die  until  our  prayers  for  hirn  are  answered. 
If  I  knew  he  was  dead  to-night,  I  should  know 
he  was  safe  in  heaven,  for  God,  who  never  lies, 
has  given  his  word  that  he  will  save  him.  Lis- 
ten, mamma:  'If  ye  shall  ask  anything  in  my 
name,  I  will  do  it.'  My  name!  It  is  so  great, 
£0  powerful  a  name,  so  wonderful  that  anything 
becomes  possible  to  him  who  uses  it.  I  have 
used  it.  Mother,  I  am  sure  our  boy  is  safe. 
I've  asked,  and  God  says  Yes." 

She  was  crying  softly  now ;  blessed  tears  of 
relief.  This  was  her  boy  holding  her  ;  her  boy. 
The  other  boy  —  God  watched  him  ;  God  cared 
f^r  him;  he  must  be  safe.  Yes,  she  believed 
and  tenderly  kissing  her  face,  Herbert  soothed 
her  on  his  bosom,  rocking  her  in  his  arms  as  if 
she  had  been  Olive,  until- she  fell  asleep. 

He  hardly  breathed  then  le.st  he  should  disturb 
her.  His  father,  found  him  thus,  and  together 
they  laid  her  on  the  bed  and  loosed  her 
clothes. 


"M., 


KS^SS 


«i*5sr-\^*^-?'a,?'»*ss-5»;.wTss«»sv\»sest"'- 


Ti 


"TIME   FLIES  !" 


257 


LIES  !  " 

y  is  not  dead ;  he  can- 
for  hirn  are  answered. 
>night,  I  should  know 
r  God,  who  never  lies, 
he  will  save  him.  Lis- 
11  ask  anything  in  my 
name  !  It  is  so  great, 
>nderful  that  anything 
who  uses  it.  I  have 
sure  our  boy  is  safe. 
Yes." 

now ;  blessed  tears  of 
holding  hei  ;  her  boy. 
ched  him ;  God  cared 
;.  Yes,  she  believed 
face,  Herbert  soothed 
J  her  in  his  arms  as  if 
she  fell  asleep. 
I  le.st  he  should  disturb 
im  thus,  and  together 
bed    and    loosed    her 


The  heavy  slumber  was  not  broken ;  it  was 
the   first   she   had   fallen    into   since   Ray   dis- 
appeared.     Then    ri.sing    from   over   the   dear, 
peaceful  face,  father  and  son  looked  into  eac". 
other's  eyes.     No  need  ov  words.     Instinctive^, 
hand  grasped  hand,  and  in  that  moment  v  ci 
felt  the  other's  soul  was  counterpart  of  his  (v.v  ^ 
They  were  no  longer  twain,  even  in  th.;'.  dear 
relationship  of  father  and  son;  nay,  they  .  c-o 
one,  and  each  opened  arms  t..  the  other  in  a 
loving  embrace. 

His  son  pressed  to  his  bosom  until  he  felt  his 
heart  beat  against  his  own.  Herbert  Gardcnell 
senior  said  fervently,  "  '  God  is  our  refuge  and 
strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble.  There- 
fore will  not  we  fear,  though  the  earth  be  re- 
moved and  though  the  mountains  be  carried  into 
the  midst  of  the  sea,  for  this  God  is  our  God 
forever  and  ever.'  " 

And  the  answer  was  as  if  his  younger  self  had 
spo'  en :  " '  He  is  my  father's  God,  and  I  will 
exalt  Him.'  " 


c?wii,?.*ififiew«s.'ATS'3»*»a~'  ■ 


258 


"TIME    FLIES  ! 


Then  they  two  knelt  and  agreed  as  touching 

one  thing. 

Weeks,  months  passed.     Telegrams  brought 
no  hope.     Only  one  vessel   had  shipped  a  boy 
that  day,  and  he  was  colored.     Many  and  cruel 
were  the  comments  passed  ;  sympathy  and  criti- 
cisms flowed  in  f'-om  many  sources,  but  as  to  the 
persons  concerned,  they  had  reached  Solid  Rock. 
Carefully  Olive  watched  over  her  mother  and 
sou^^ht  to  comfort  father.     The  newspapers  of 
course  had  flourished.     Many  kind  things  were 
said,  but  "  ministers'  sons  and  deacons'  daugh- 
ters "  had  to  be  aired ;  much  was  hinted  about 
neglecting   one's  own  while   tending  another's 
vineyard  ;  most  of  it  written,  no  doubt,  by  those 
who  tended  neither. 

Mr.  Gardenell  read,  smiled,  sighed,  and  say- 
in"-,  "  Little  mother  must  not  see  this,"  cut  out 
the  article.  Mrs.  Gardenell  met  with  a  similar 
paragraph.  "Dear  heart,  you  shall  not  see  this," 
and  it  was  burned.  And  all  this  while  Herbert 
and  Olive   searched   papers   daily,  lest   any  of 


■fifilliiMrtMJi*'*-!^*'-'  • 


zaiiim-imMSs^ 


.lES  !  " 

ad  agreed  as  touching 

I.  Telegrams  brought 
5cl  had  shipped  a  boy 
ored.  Many  and  cruel 
d  ;  sympathy  and  criti- 
y  sources,  but  as  to  the 
lad  reached  Solid  Rock, 
d  over  her  mother  and 
r.  The  newspapers  of 
Many  kind  things  were 
IS  and  deacons'  daugh- 
much  was  hinted  about 
^hile  tending  another's 
tten,  no  doubt,  by  those 

miled,  sighed,  and  say- 
it  not  see  this,"  cut  out 
nell  met  with  a  similar 
,  you  shall  not  see  this," 
:l  all  this  while  Herbert 
pers   daily,  lest   any  of 


'  TIME   FLIES  !  ' 


259 


these  objeetionable  thing.  shouU  veaeh  e,.her 

'"tII  nine-days  «onder  «,  over  at  last,  Her- 
bert went  back  to  eollege,  and  everybody  tr.ed 
,„  settle  baelt  to  former  habits. 

0„rin,  an  this  strain  none  had  been  K.nde. 

„ore  diligent  and   pers.tont   in   h,s  efforts^ 
obtain  news  of  the  missing  boy,  than  Cd  Go 
a„„.    He  doubled  all  rewards  offered,  h,red  other 

detectives,  was  unsparing  in  his  endeavors,  and, 
best  of  all,  never  doubted  his  boy's  friend. 

..Desure,"hesaidtoMrs.GardeneUoneday, 
.,he  sure  your  son  himself  is  not  grieving  you 

,*e  this.    He  is  too  honorable  and  manly  fo 
.hat.     I  don't  believe  he  is  dead.     He  w,    come 
back  ,0  you  some  day,  and  I  predict  wdl  be  a 

joy  of  heart  to  you  as  long  as  you  hve. 

•  Thank  you,"  answered  Herbert  Gardenell, 
his  eyes  flashing  out  his  gratitude  "I  b..eve 
you  are  right.     My  <ai.h  claims  h.m.     He  .s 
Led    in    Heaven,   and  therefore   guarded   on 
earth." 


it=i.i-aa:-Ha*K.4'?«j--« 


.'i.i  ['Ji.i.'i<jiiiii-V  fi'A--  -LiiTltM 


260 


"  TIME   FLIES  ! 


ki,ii 


"  Rennic  loves  him,"  said  the  colonel  gently, 
"and  if  your  theories  arc  true,  perhaps  he  knows 
where  he  is  to-night.  It  lightens  things  wonder- 
fully to  think  so  ;  he  can  never  be  quite  friend- 
less while  my  boy's  love  can  r'^ach  hira." 


^^^K-^.i*Vfc«iVA36- " 


ES!" 

d  the  colonel  gently, 
•ue,  perhaps  he  knows 
;htcns  things  wonder- 
ever  be  quite  friend- 
n  rf^ach  hira." 


THE   DARKY    SAII.OR-BOY. 

He  trudged  alonR  unknowing  what  he  sought, 
And  whistled  as  he  went  for  want  of  thought. 

Dryden. 

IN  spite  of  the  colonel's  assurance  it  was 
quite  true  that  Ray  had  brought  all  this 
sorrow  on  his  parents  and  friends  through  his 
own  heedlessness.  To  do  him  justice,  he  had 
planned  no  mischief;  he  had  simply  drifted  into 
it ;  but  the  consequences  were  as  fatal  as  if  with 
mllice  aforethought  he  had  planned  the  whole 
miserable  scheme. 

In  his  bedroom  that  day  he  donned  the  sailor 
suit,  delighted  that  it  fitted  him  so  well.  "  I'm 
in  luck,"  he  said  exultantly,  kicking  his  clothes 
one  side.  As  he  did  so  his  foot  came  in  contact 
with  something  hard  ;  his  eyes  shone. 

'•What  a  jolly  lark,"  he  cried,  fishing  a  small 
361 


)i(!*SM**&B. 


MJjWftj 


20i 


THE   DARKY   SAILOR-BOY. 


vial  from  the  pocket  of  the  discarded  pants. 
"Cowics  said  his  uncle  brought  this  from  the 
Indies,  and  it  would  make  a  fellov  a  regular 
darky.     I  believe  I'll  try  it." 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  "  My !  that's  neat," 
he  said,  applying  a  little  to  his  hand.  "  Let's 
see  how  I'd  look !  "  And  soon  his  face  was  so 
transformed  that  his  dearest  friend  would  not 
have  recognized  him.  He  viewed  his  work  with 
great  satisfaction. 

"  Not  a  fellow  of  them  would  know  me  ;  I  don't 
know  myself.  I'll  try  just  for  fim.  But  here's 
the  hands;  they'll  tell  tales."  Up  went  the 
shirt-.sleeves,  and  soon  Herbert  Gardenell's  sec- 
ond son  was  a  fine-looking,  bright-eyed,  well-knit 
little  darky. 

He  whistled  as  he  thrust  the  empty  boUle 
in  his  pocket,  donned  his  hat  and  sallied  forth, 
perfectly  delighted  when  his  father  passed  him 
without  recognition.  Farther  up  tne  street  he 
met  several  schoolmates  with  the  same  result, 
and  last  oi  all  he  met  Olive  talking  to  a  friend. 


I H I 


w^^SisS^tossft^- 


THE   DARKV    SAaOK-BOY. 


263 


[t-BOY. 

discarded  pants, 
jht  this  from  the 
I  fello\     a  regular 

'My!  that's  neat," 
lis  hand.  "  Let's 
an  his  face  was  so 
friend  would  not 
wed  his  work  with 

I  know  me  ;  I  don't 
r  fun.  But  here's 
."  Up  went  the 
rt  Gardenell's  sec- 
ight-cyed,  v.'ell-knit 

the  empty  bottle 
:  and  sall-cJ  forth, 
father  passed  him 
r  up  tne  street  he 
h  the  same  result, 
alkins  to  a  friend. 


/ 


her  comment  as  she  gi* 

aloud.    ^>"--P;;;;;::„Harvesa„d.ooUed 
«""'"'=       1     L*=  properdin,  for 
-"*"TT;rhe.ooKoutthebo«.ean<. 
a  sailor  to  do.     1  h':'  ^.^^^^  ^^  ;,,  as  he 

pUchcd  >t  into  *e  water^   .^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^^^  ^„ 

saw  it  sink  beneath   -^  ^.^,  ^„a 

item  of  information  g>vc,n  h>m 

u-'''*'-''"'";:fl::isnoteasiiyre,novea., 

""-'"^^'*°      ;,.,„tenmeoutofusin. 
1  suppose  tlrat  was  ^.ofr=.^^^^^^^^^^^^^,„^^, 

i,,..  Jonas  remarke..  ^^^^  ^^.j^,,  .„ 

"^''^";:araeertainchen,icaiso,nt,on 

while.     He  heard  ,^  ^^^^^  „hat  it  was. 

„o,.W  remove  .t,  but    '  ck-knite  and 

Kaymond  bad  swapped    «^^^^^^^^__^^^_, 

.everai  other  thrngs^or^^^^^^^^^^^,,,.,, 
rpr-rrJs  own  arm  months  before, 


.-airs«M!rM*fe«*s- 


Ij'l 


264 


THE   DARKY   SAILOR-BOY. 


■s 

k 

!i 

1.1 

I 

I'. 


I 
I 


« 


and  it  was  there  yet.  Perhaps  it  would  yield 
while  fresh.  He  bought  a  piece  of  soap  and 
went  to  the  water;  his  hands  were  black  as  ever 
in  spite  of  all  his  rubbing. 

His  father.^  Well,  of  course  he  would  forgive 
him  and  help  him  out  all  he  could  ;  but  —  why, 
he  couldn't  go  to  school ;  and  the  boys,  what 
would  they  sav  ?  considerations  that  should 
have  entered  his  plans  some  time  before.  Such 
a  scrape  !  He  was  getting  so  ashamed  of  these 
continued  difficulties,  and  —  what  would  Olive 
say,  and  mamma  —  dear  little  mother-woman  ! 
she  must  never  know.  If  he  could  ship  for  a 
sliort  voyage  it  might  wear  off.  Just  the  thing ; 
what  a  brilliant  idea  !  So  it  happened  that  after 
several  unsuccessful  applications  he  was  taken 
aboard  of  a  vessel  just  weighing  anchor,  and  two 
hours  after  donning  that  suit  of  clothes  was  put- 
ting out  to  sea  as  Richard  Green,  darky  sailor- 
boy,  in  the  ocean-bound  Maria  Thompson. 

No  wonder  his  disappearance  was  shrouded  in 
mystery,  and  his  mother  and  father  filled  w'-h 


iteS-';'"  ■' 


ILOR-BOV. 

rhaps  it  would  yield 
I  piece  of  soap  and 
ds  were  black  as  ever 

arse  he  would  forgive 
e  could  ;  but  —  why, 
;  and  the  boys,  what 
rations  that  should 
i  time  before.  Such 
so  ashamed  of  these 
—  what  would  Olive 
ittle  mother-woman  ! 
he  could  ship  for  a 
off.  Just  the  thing  ; 
:  happened  that  after 
ations  he  was  taken 
hing  anchor,  and  two 
it  of  clothes  was  put- 
Green,  darky  sailor- 
ria  Thompson, 
incc  was  shrouded  in 
nd  father  filled  v.--':h 


THE   DARKY    SAILOR-BOY. 


265 


sorrow.     How  Hale  this  poor  sick  colored  ch,M 
tossing  about  in  his  bunk,  suffering  with  nausea 
aisgusted  with  the  coarse  food  offered  h,m,ap. 
pearedhke  the  boy  fron,  that  Christian  hon^e. 

..  The  way  ot  the  transgressor  .s  hard, 
haps  no  Bible  verse  ever  meant  so  much  .0  Ray 
Jnd  Gardcnell  as  that  did  for  the  next  few 
months.     Oh!  to  be  home  again,  to  have  one 
g„„p,e  of  mamma,  hear  father  say  but  one 
!  My  son."     He  wept   .-.imself  to   sleep  n,gt 
after  night,  aad  woke  tired,  sore,  balf.wdd.    He 
.ould  not  eat  the  food  at  hrst,  and  t  e  coa. 

iokcs  of   the  men  shocked  him,  h,s  had  been 
uch  a  carefultraining.    They  called  him  "  Gen- 
tleman Nigger,"  and  knocked  him  about  ,n  the. 
rough  fashion,  denying  him  the  little  kmdnesses 

he  mi^ht  have  won  but  for  his  color.     He  wa 
Irlilgmanyuseful  lessons.  but,ohMn  sow 
a  school,  and  .t  was  long  before  be  go.  use.  .0 

it  or  any  of  his  ready  wit  returned. 

They  were  out  on   a  long  voyage.     In 
course  of  a  few  months  the  sailors  began  to 


,^i^  t: 


■fe:  a^  :>^:,;^faa-iiiaaiaiwiW^ 


266 


THE    DARKY   SAILOR-BOY. 


rally  him,  declaring  "Nigger  Dick"  was  getting 
white,  losing  the  tan,  etc.  Alarmed,  he  took 
opportunity  to  examine  himself  in  .he  captain's 
mirror.  Truly  the  stain  was  disappearing  fast. 
He  would  be  white  again  ;  an  almost  despair  of 
this  or  of  any  change  in  his  hard  lot,  had  taken 
hold  of  him.  But  in  the  midst  of  his  joy  en- 
tered fear  of  detection.  His  secret  must  not  be 
discovered ;  he  deti:rmined  to  run  away  at  the 
first  port  they  entered. 

The  end  of  a  year  found  this  child  of  love  and 
care  in  a  strange  land  among  people  of  a  strange 
tongue,  almost  penniless  and  quite  sick. 

At  the  hospital  the  nurse  was  kind,  but  she 
did  not  understand  a  word  of  Lnglish.  In  his 
fever  delirium  he  raved  of  home  and  mamma, 
begging  to  be  forgiven  —  prayed  for.  But  when 
the  doctor,  who  knew  some  English,  questioned 
him  as  he  grew  better,  he  steadily  refused  to 
say  one  word  of  his  friends.  He  felt  sure  he 
had  broken  their  hearts,  he  would  not  disgrace 
them  by  disclosing  his  name. 


til 


\  '' 


^;3^^jj^ai£  rt<VM..i  ««.. 


THE   L^AF.K-Y    SAILOR-BOY. 


267 


DR-BOY. 

Dick"  was  getting 
Alarmed,  he  took 
;lf  in  .he  captain's 
.  disappearing  fast, 
i  almost  despair  of 
lard  lot,  had  taken 
idst  of  his  joy  en- 
secret  must  not  be 
;o  run  away  at  the 

lis  child  of  love  and 
people  of  a  strange 
quite  sick. 

;  was  kind,  but  she 

of  Lnglish.  In  his 
home  and  mamma, 

lyed  for.  But  when 
English,  questioned 
steadily  refused   to 

s.  He  felt  sure  he 
would  not  disgrace 


He  hopedhe.onld  find  son.  American-bound 

vessel  when  he  grew  stronger.    Just  to  get  home 
and  hear  mamma  pray  for  him  once  as  she  used 

to  do.  became  the  one  longing  of  his  heart.    He 

,      ein—.— beyond  pardon,  he  feared  — 
wassuchasmu.i  — oeyon    i  ,     ,    ,  ,,  ^ 

for  he  had  been  well-taught,  and  neglected  the 

truth      He  recalled  Ben.  and  his  hungry  eyes  as 
he  spoke  of  their  family  prayers.    Ah!  he  under- 

stood  that  now.  

Just  to  kneel  about  the  altar  on.e  more  and  hear 
father  and  mother  pray  t  Tears  would  burst  forth 

at  the  thought,  shut  h,s  eyes  ever  so  tishtly,  and 

then  the  foreign  .«rsew.«ld  bustle  about,  hove 

i„g  over  him  and  chattering  her  sohcttude. 

Poor  Ray.  he  d,d  not  th.nk  of  praymg  for 

himself;  it  never  entered  his  head  as  poss.bl 

To  be  prayed  for,  to  kneel  by  mamma  and  s 

his  prayers  as  he  usea  to  years  ago.  th,         > 

his  hungry  ery.     To  just  he  once  more  ...    us 

own  soft  bed  and  die  at  home -for  he  wa.     .re 

he-.vasgoin,..die;bu.hemustgethon,-and 
get  mamma  w  pray  for  him  first. 


?  .5 


% 
§ 

iK 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


HOLDING   TO   THE   PROMISE. 


Our  Father  in  Heaven  —  tell  me  the  rest, 


There's  something  about  a  forgiveness  of  sin, 
Put  that  in  !  put  that  in  1  —  and  then 
I'll  follow  your  words  and  say  an  amen. 

J    \V,  Watson. 

IT  was  a  long,  long  year  to  Herbert  Gardenell 
and  his  wife,  the  year  that  followed  the  dis- 
appearance of  their  son.  It  seemed  to  move  on 
leaden  wings. 

Their  eldest  had  gone  back  to  college,  and  the 
house  seemed  desolate  robbed  of  the  two  active 
youths,  but  the  father's  faith  seemed  never  to 
waver  from  the  hour  he  knelt  with  his  first-born 
and  claimed  G'.  V;.  promise  to  two  agreed  on 
earth  as  touching  anything  they  should  ask.  If 
he  had  hours  of  doubt  or  fear  he  never  revealed 

268 


TJSsS-;^*****'*-'* -"*  *" 


R  XXI, 

HE   PROMISE. 
-  tell  me  the  rest, 

It  a  forgiveness  of  sin, 
I  —  and  then 
md  say  an  amen. 

J    W.  Watson. 

ar  to  Herbert  Gardenell 

:ar  that  followed  the  dis- 

It  seemed  to  move  on 

back  to  college,  and  the 
robbed  of  the  two  active 
3  faith  seemed  never  to 
knelt  with  his  first-born 
3mise  to  two  agreed  on 
ing  they  should  ask.  If 
or  fear  he  never  revealed 

268 


HOLDING   TO   THE    PROMISE. 


269 


them.     Always  the   same  hopeful  virords,   the 
same  cheerful  spirit  greeted  wife  and  children. 

The  missing  boy  was  never  forgotten.  At 
the  family  altar,  tenderly,  lovingly,  expectantly, 
he  was  commended  to  divine  love  and  v^ratchful 
care.  Mrs.  Gardenell  doubted  if  he  was  ever 
out  of  her  husband's  thoughts,  he  was  so  doubly 
tender  to  all  young  life,  so  abundantly  sympa- 
thetic with  all  child-woes.  Always  kind  and 
thoughtful  of  youth,  now  no  chile  c  ned  to 
pass  unnoticed.  It  seemed  as  if  his  sorrow 
sanctified  a  1  boyhood.  She  often  saw  him  on 
the  street-corner  stop  until  some  step,  heard  in 
the  distance,  brought  its  owner  near.  How 
gently  yet  how  cheerily  he  always  greeted  the 
stranger,  and  yet  with  an  almost  disappointment 
in  his  eyes  as  if  he  had  expected  what  he  had 
not  found.     He  seemed  ever  looking  for  some 

one. 

One  day  she  was  in  the  library,  work  in  hand, 
when  Col.  Gordon  was  announced.  Presently 
Judge  Wilde  dropped  in,  and  the  three  gentle- 


j-j^'.-.'SS'WW'i*  '*  -•' 


270 


HOLDING    TO   THE    PROMISE. 


i<  J 


men   fell    into   an   earnest   conversation.     Sud- 
denly, in  the  midst  of   it,  Mr.  Gardencll  rose 
hastily  from  his  chair  and  opened  the  hall  door. 
He  shut  it  again  instantly  at  sight  of  one  of  the 
maids  disappearing  through  the  corridor,  but  he 
did   not    resume  the  conversation  or  his  chair. 
Instead  he  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  room, 
one  hand  for  a  momen;  flung  across  his  eyes. 
As  it  dropped  he  met  the  questioning  glance  of 
his  friends  and  smiled  sadly,  as  still  pacing  the 
room  ha  repeated  softly  :  — 


"  I  walk  my  parlor  floor. 
And  through  the  open  door 

I  hear  a  footfall  on  the  chamber  stair ; 
I'm  stenping  toward  the  hall 
To  give  the  boy  a  call, 

And  then  bethink  me  that  —  he  is  not  there! 


"  I  thread  the  crowded  street, 

A  satchelled  lad  I  meet. 
With  the  same  beaming  eye  and  colored  hair, 

And  as  he's  running  by 

Follow  him  with  my  eye. 
Scarcely  believing  that  —  he  is  not  there  1 " 


■vmt' 


<^X^:• 


iiii-i^i-^' 


IE    PROMISE. 

t  conversation.  Sud- 
t,  Mr.  Gardencll  rose 
opened  the  hall  door. 

at  sight  of  one  of  the 
rh  the  corridor,  but  he 
versation  or  his  chair, 
up  and  down  the  room, 

flung  across  his  eyes. 

questioning  glance  of 
dly,  as  still  pacing  the 


floor, 

open  door 

chamber  stair ; 

rard  the  hall 

a  call, 

lat  —  he  is  not  there  I 

ivded  street, 

I  meet, 

ig  eye  and  colored  hair, 
ning  by 
1  my  eye, 

—  he  is  not  there  I " 


HOLDING   TO    THE    PROMISE. 


271 


Before  the  full,  rich  tremulous  voice  had 
finished  the  second  stanza,  his  audience  was  re- 
duced  to  one  person.  Mrs.  Gardenell  hurried 
to  her  own  room  to  hide  her  tears,  Colonel  Gor- 
don seized  h'.  hat  and  in  the  street  i.clow  paced 
up  and  down  like  a  madman.  Only  Judge 
Wilde  remained,  and  he  was  leaning  forward  in 
his  chair,  face  hidden  in  his  hands. 

His  pastor  stopped  before  him  and  laid  a 
hand  on  the  bowed  head.  "  He  will  be  here,  old 
friend,"  he  said,  a  thrill  of  joy  in  his  low  deep 
tones.  "Be  here  speedily,  thank  God.  Beloved, 
our  Lord  reigneth,  blessed  be  His  name  !  " 

So  Mr.  Gardcnell's  sorrow  tinged  his  life  with 
an  added  glory,  an  under-glow  suggestive  of  sun- 
set clouds  or  October  woods  ;  a  sort  of  "  victori- 
ous suffering,"  as  Jud.e  Wilde  called  it.  His 
gentleness  was  greater,  his  sympathies  broader, 
for  those  who  strayed  or  sorrowed.  True  pain 
should  always  mean  gain  to  God's  own.  His 
devoted  people  said  he  preached  better,  and  his 
labors  among  the  bereaved  and  fallen  were  more 


272 


HOLDING   TO   THE   Pkv/MISE. 


abundant.  As  for  his  wife,  she  tried  to  carry 
the  same  sunny  face ;  husband  or  children 
never  missed  her  smile,  but  her  health  failed 
steadily,  perceptibly,  until  more  and  more  she 
was  confined  to  the  house,  and  part  of  the  time 
to  her  own  room. 

At  these  times  Olive  was  a  great  comfort,  for 
Herbert  had  left  her  to  fill  his  place  as  well  as 
her  own,  he  said,  at  departing,  and  she  was  trying 
hard  to  do  it.  His  occasional  vacations  brought 
fresh  air  and  new  impulse  into  every  avenue  of 
the  home-life.  His  father  and  he  were  insep- 
arable during  these  weeks,  and  mamma  always 
revived  physically. 

Mrs.  Rogers  wrote  a  long  letter  from  her 
Western  home. 

"That  precious  boy  is  safe,  and  will  be  home 
again  soon,"  it  ran.  "  It  is  one  of  his  pranks 
which  has  carried  him  farther  than  he  intended. 
The  dear  Lord  will  take  care  of  him.  Be  sure 
he  will  never  get  away  from  the  grip  of  the 
fifteen   yars   of  your  prayer  and   instruction. 


PRuMtSE. 

;,  she  tried  to  carry 
usb-.nd  or  children 
ut  her  health  failed 
more  and  more  she 
and  part  of  the  time 

5  a  great  comfort,  for 
1  his  place  as  well  as 
ng,  and  she  was  trying 
,nal  vacations  brought 
:  into  every  avenue  of 
r  and  he  were  insep- 
s,  and  mamma  always 

long  letter  from  her 

safe,  and  will  be  home 
t  is  one  of  his  pranks 
rther  than  he  intended. 
;  care  of  him.  Be  sure 
r  from  the  grip  of  the 
prayer  and   instruction. 


HOLDING   TO   THE    PROMISE. 


271 


Be  of  good  cheer.  I  expect  to  hear  he  is  at 
home  every  hour." 

That  letter  helped  wonderfully ;  so  did  the 
sympathy  and  prayers  of  Prof.  Germaine  and 
Esther,  and  of  dear  Eddie  Campbell,  who,  with 
Achor,  took  a  week  to  visit  the  "  dearest  mother 
in  the  world."  There  was  Judge  Wilde,  Fred 
Walton,  and  hosts  of  friends  uniting  hearts  and 
sympathies  and  petitions. 

"  We  will  surround  our  God  with  a  hedge  of 
promises,  Yensie,"  said  the  judge  one  day. 
"  He  will  never  break  the  least  of  them  to  get 
out." 

"Nay,  rather,"  commented  Mr.  Walton,  who 
stood  near,  "  he  will  link  them  into  a  chain  to 
draw  the  wanderer  home." 

They  were  all  so  kind.  Still  the  time  was 
long,  very  long,  for  every  day  had  to  be  lived, 
and  Mrs.  Gardrnell  realized  as  never  before  that 
it  takes  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  to 
make  a  year. 

The  anniversary  of  Ray's  disappearance  came 


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HOLDING  TO   THE   PROMISE. 


11^ 

III- 


* 


274 

,„a  went  unmarked  exec,,,  with  a  fresh  baptism 
0  tears  in  mother's  room,  a  fresh  wa.t,ns  on 
GoL  renewed  eourage  in  fathers  study,  and  a 

long  letter  from  Herbert. 

■fwe  will  elaim  his  speedy  return  by  fa..h.  a 

,hree  o'clock  this  afternoon."  he  wrote.     •' Mee 

me  then  a.  the  throne,  and  let  us   ra.se  our 
•  .  mn?  the  Doxology 

Jericho-shout   for  victory.     Smg 
J  .  .  .      Tf  T  am  not  where 

after  prayer.     I'll*  0^"  y^^"     "  ^  ^"^  " 

;  Ian  hear,  God  will,  and,  feel  sure  of  h,s 

.  Be  it  unto  you  even  as  thou  writ. 

Thev  followed  his  request  fully     «  was  a 

sight  for  angels,   that  tearful   group   as  they 

!n.;  the  little  boys  with  eyes  wide  open  wuh 

:o:d;r,  mamma  with  closed  ones  tbroug^H 
,ears  crept  softly.  Olive  with  ,u.venngl^s  ana 

,.„.bowed    head,  and    papa  erect    w«h   head 
thrown  back  and  lifted  eyes,  arms  folded  on  hrs 

breast  and  glory  touching  his  face. 

And  in  a  small  college  chamber,  at  the  same 

bour.  stood  two  young   men,  hand  clasped    n 
L  ,  eye  shining  to  eye,  smile  answermg  sm.le 


5i7^  1; 


HOLDING   TO   THE    PROMISE. 


275 


PROMISE. 

vith  a  fresh  baptism 
a  fresh  waiting  on 
father's  study,  and  a 

dy  return  by  faith,  at 
,,"  he  wrote.     "Meet 
,nd  let  us   raise   our 
Sing  the  Doxology 
ti.     If  I  am  not  where 
nd  I  feel  sure  of  his 
lou  wilt.' " 

uest  fully     It  was  a 
earful   group    as  they 
h  eyes  wide  open  with 
sed  ones  through  which 
with  quivering  lips  and 
papa  erect,   with   head 
;yes,  arms  folded  on  his 
ig  his  face. 

ge  chamber,  at  the  same 
r  men,  hand  clasped  in 
'e,  smile  answering  smile 


singing  the  same  words  exultantly  over  and  over, 
and  as  they  closed  the  fervent  "Glory  to  God" 
of  Stanton  Cartwright  was  followed  by  the  sol- 
emnly joyful  "Amen"  of  his  friend. 

It  was  a  month  after,  and  Monday  ;  mamma 
was  far  from  well.  Twilight  hour,  the  little 
boys  in  bed,  Olive  thrumming  on  the  piano  in 
the  room  below,  she  waited  for  her  husband's 
return  from  a  bereaved  parishioner's. 

There  was  a  Ere  upon  the  grate  before  which 
she  sat,  for  the  spring  was  late  and   the  day 
chilly.     Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  coals  as  if 
she   read   something  in  their  glowing  depths  ; 
preoccupied,  ears  filled  unconsciously  with  the 
music  from  the  room  below,  she  scarcely  heard 
a  step,  and  did  not  look  up  as  the  door  opened. 
In  the  dusk  she  did  not  discern  whose  figure 
knelt  down  before  her ;   it  was  not  an  uncom- 
mon attitude  with  her  husband,  but  the  touch  of 
the  hand,  the  tone  of    the  voice  which   said 
"  Mamma,  pray  for  me,"  thrilled  her  deepest 
soul. 


anii 


rfJM 


276 


HOLDING   TO   THE   PROMISE. 


She  was  very  still.  Oh  !  how  still  God  kept 
her.  Instinctively,  she  took  in  the  situation; 
understood  the  weakness  and  the  need  of  the 
sick  soul  and  body  at  her  feet. 

"  Pray  for  me,  mamma ;  teach  me  '  Our 
Father '  ;  I've  forgotten  how  it  goes.  I  must 
say  it  once  again." 

"Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,"  she 
began  in  low,  clear,  tremulous  tones. 

"  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven,"  echoed 
the  voice  of  her  lost  boy,  and  she  pressed  with 
both  hers  the  hand  he  had  given  her  as  she  said 
ferveivtly,  reverently,  "  Hallowed  be  thy  name," 
recalling  what  Herbert  had  said  about  that  name. 
Like  a  baby  the  great  boy  beside  her  knee 
followed  her  through  the  prayer.  Had  he  gone 
back  to  childhood  again  ?    A  terrible  fear  smote 

her  heart. 

"  Forgive  us  our  debts,"  —  he  repeated  that 
twice  —  "  as  we  forgive  our  debtors  —  I  never 
had  any  to  forgive  —  never  had  any.  Forgive 
me  my  debts,"  he  said  again. 


^\ 


HOLDING   TO   THE   PROMISE. 


277 


I  PROMISE. 

!  how  still  God  kept 

ok  in  the  situation  ; 

and  the  need  of  the 

set. 

la ;    teach    me    '  Our 

low  it  goes.     I  must 

irt    in   heaven,"    she 
ous  tones. 

t   in   heaven,"  echoed 
and  she  pressed  with 

given  her  as  she  said 
ill  owed  be  thy  name," 
i  said  about  that  name. 
;  boy  beside  her  knee 
prayer.     Had  he  gone 

A  terrible  fear  smote 

s,"  —  he  repeated  that 
our  debtors  —  I  never 
ver  had  any.  Forgive 
:ain. 


Mamma  stocked  and  pressed  her  lips  .o  hU 
aan,pcur,s;she«smaWin6a„effonatseU.con- 

"tsay 'Now  I  lay  me.' mamma"     She  did  so, 
he  (oUowing  as  before,  word  for  word. 

".  Now  I  must  go  to  bed." 

yensieGardenell  rose  and  drew  her  boys  arm 

Jough  her  own.    Together  they  went  aeross 

the  hall  and  entered  his  chamber. 

"^he  dainty  bed  had  been  aired  every  day  srn^ 
his  departure,  waiting  for  his  com,ng-,shwa 
!    glad     Fresh  flowers  stood  on  the  stand  and 
ll.    Olive  Uept  them  there,  their  fragrance 

filled  the  room.  ,  •  ^^  , 

He  sighed  contentedly  as  he  dropped  mto  a 
A  of  >,U  feet  and  unlaced 
chair,  and  she  dropped  at  his  feet 

tiis  shoes.  ^''  he  said. 

.      •  ^  fr.  he  home,  mamma,     he  saia. 
"  It  is  nice  to    oe   nuiu^, 

'« I'm  very  tired."  ^^ 

-Yes,  darling;  you  will  soon  rest. 

^     T  rould  not  rest 
.<0,  yes!  I  will  soon  rest.    I  cou  a  n 

away  from  you,  mamma." 


...;S5ap"' 


-JB 


^1   i 


278 


HOLDING    TO   THE   PROMISE. 


She  helped  him  undress,  and  soon  in  snowy 
night-shirt,  his  curly  head  pillowed  where  it  had 
been  from  infancy,  he  lifted  hir  face  for  her  kiss. 

"  You  will  sing  me  to  sleep  as  you  used  to  do, 
mamma  ;  that  was  so  long  ago." 

And  she  nerved  herself  to  sing  until  his  regu- 
lar breathing  told  her  he  slept.  Then  she  knelt 
down  and  thanked  God. 

How  she  longed  to  see  his  face.  She  feared 
the  gas-light  might  shine  on  him  and  awake  him 
if  she  lighted  it.  She  dreaded  to  leave  him  for 
an  instant,  but  she  did  slip  away  a  moment  at 
length,  for  the  tiny  night-lamp  kept  in  her 
room. 

"  I  wonder  where  my  wife  is .' "  asked  a 
familiar  voice  as  she  opened  her  door.  "  Surely 
this  buoyant  step  is  not  hers !  Darling,  what 
has  come  to  you  ?  " 

"  My  boy,  Herbert,  my  precious  boy.  Don't 
detain  me  !  Pass  me  the  lamp  ;  I  must  see  his 
face.     Herbert,  God  is  good." 

He  did  not  answer  her.    The  strong,  brave 


HE   PROMISE. 

ss,  and  soon  in  snowy 
I  pillowed  where  it  had 
ed  hif^  face  for  her  kiss, 
leep  as  you  used  to  do, 
r  ago." 

:  to  sing  until  his  regu- 
slept.     Then  she  knelt 

e  his  face.  She  feared 
on  him  and  awake  him 
eaded  to  leave  him  for 
slip  away  a  moment  at 
;ht-lamp    kept    in   her 

y   wife    is .' "   asked   a 

led  her  door.     "  Surely 

hers !    Darling,  what 

r  precious  boy.  Don't 
lamp  ;    I  must  see  his 

30d." 

er.    The  strong,  brave 


HOLDING   TO   THE    PROMISE. 


279 


man  was  unnerved  by  the  sudden  joy  ;  they  had 
changed  places  for  awhile. 

Yes,  it  was  Ray,  it  was  Ray.  Fond  faces 
bent  over  him,  and  tender,  though  light  kisses 
were  dropped  on  his  face.  Every  time  he  stirred 
that  night  he  put  out  his  hand  always  to  find 
another  hand  ready  to  clasp  it,  and  he  smiled  in 
his  sleep  and  murmured  Mamma ! 

That  night  Herbert  Gardenell  junior  received 
the  following  telegram : 

"  St.  Luke,  15  chap.  32d  verse." 

..  Stan,  Stan,  old  fellow."  he  cried,  bursting 
into  his  chum's  room  and  waving  the  paper 
above  his  head,  «'read  that,  and  see  if  you 
don't  want  to  sing  the  Doxology  again;"  and 
then  two  young  men  flung  themselves  into  each 
other's  arms  and  laughed  and  cried  as  if  sud- 
denly gone  daft. 


I  XXII. 

REJOICING, 

ig  smiles 
icb  angel's  face 
smiles  of  joy  that  grew 
er  and  anon 
1  of  the  hymn. 

T.   VVestwood. 

ent  the  telephone  bell 
s  study,  and  "  Halloo  !  " 
plied  it  to  the  mouth- 

inswered. 

praise  God ;    Ray  has 

ny  soul,  and  forget  not 

:ome  to  him  ? " 

Herbert  Gardenell  had 


CAUSE   FOR   REJOICING. 


281 


„„.e.aUU  in  *e  opinion  ana  sUU  of  hMr,e„a 
..an,nanypM-anJn«=;^-^^^,^,,,„, 

■•";;:"r::"-uer;we.a,, 
r;:::";.  .0  Hi,  .on*  ana  a  .00a 

.i.u.ion,  una.  Ooa.    H=  ha,  not  W  J 

.     u      .  to  die     A  little  medicine  may  help, 
him  home  to  ciie. 
but  Nature  is  the  grand  restorer,  and  ,ustn 

Nature  demands  sleep." 

And  sleep  Ray  did.     It  seemed  as  if  he 

1     If  he  aroused  for  a  moment, 
never  cet  enough,     it  ne 

never  y^  consciousness 

a  word  of  intelligence,  a  gleam  01 

ff  n<Tain     But  there  was  a 
w-is  all,  and  he  was  off  again,     o 
Tolc  o    restful  satisfaction  on  the   young  face, 
look  ot  resu  .veDened  as  the 

of  child-like  abandonment,  that  oeepene 

u  fr.  the  nrofessor's  delight. 
hours  went  by,  much  to  .ho  F 

Hnite  early  the  morning  atter  K^y 

f  ato  1  the  R=v.  Garaeneii.     His  fivs.  m- 

"  ontaWnB    the    ministers    hana,    was, 

quiry,   on    taKin^  ^  ^^ 

..  Have  you  a  missing  son  .  ^^ 

..No,  thank  God.  he  is  returned,    repUed  Mr. 


.,-»»«-#'- 


liiiiil 


11 


383 


CAUSE   FOR   REJOICING. 


Gardenell  fervently,  thereby  relieving  his  visitor 
of  a  great  load. 

He  introduced  himself  as  Capt.  Shaw,  and 
informed  the  gentleman  that  he  had  brought  his 
son  home  in  his  vessel.  He  then  told  where  he 
had  found  the  boy. 

It  seems  Ray  knew  his  as  an  American  ship 
by  the  flag  at  the  mast-head,  and  begged  to  be 
brought  back  in  it.  His  name  he  was  deter- 
mined not  to  divulge,  until  the  captain  refused 
to  bring  him  on  any  other  conditions. 

"  He  actually  got  on  his  knees  to  me,  sir, 
when  he  found  I  was  bound  to  New  York,  and 
begged  so  hard  I  could  not  deny  him.  Seemed 
as  if  the  sight  of  the  old  flag  set  him  wild.  He 
ran  up  the  mast  like  a  regular  soilor,  and  kissed 
it  as  it  floated  in  the  breeze.  I  could  hardly 
believe  it  when  he  said  he  belonged  to  you,  sir ; 
I  had  seen  you  at  the  Mission.  But  my  wife 
took  a  wonderful  fancy  to  the  boy,  and  said  she 
could  see  his  likeness  to  his  mother,  which  is  a 
fact,  sir.     His   pretty  ways   won   her  heart   at 


W    ¥      i 
I    I      f 


CAUSE   FOR   REJOICING. 


283 


eby  relieving  his  visitor 

If  as  Capt.  Shaw,  and 

that  he  had  brought  his 

He  then  told  where  he 

lis  as  an  American  ship 
head,  and  begged  to  be 
is  name  he  was  deter- 
ntil  the  captain  refused 
er  conditions. 
I  his  knees  to  me,  sir, 
ound  to  New  York,  and 
not  deny  him.  Seemed 
I  flag  set  him  wild.  He 
:gular  soilor,  and  kissed 
•reeze.  I  could  hardly 
he  belonged  to  you,  sir  ; 
Mission.  But  my  wife 
0  the  boy,  and  said  she 
0  his  mother,  which  is  a 
'ays   won   her  heart   at 


once,  and  1  shan't  .ay  I  didn't  set  a  Bood  deal 
by  him  myself.     He's  been  luwspirited  and  un- 
na.uraHorayoun«.l,ing.butImuUno<lo,. 
tbafstheremnant  of  the  fever- nasty  tlungs. 

Those  fevers  leave  folks  kind  of  shaky. 

..  Last  nigh.  «hen«  got  so  close  to  land   .t 

seemed  as  if  nothing  could  hold  him.  We  lay 
„.t  in  the  harbor,  bnt  some  of  the  men  were 
coming  ashore,  and  he  begged  so  hard  to  come 

.00,  I  hadnt  the  heart  to  say  No.    But  »,fe,  she 
„orried'and  fretted  all  night,especiaily  after  the 

„,en  came  home  saying  he  ran  oft  like  wdd 
the  minute  they  touched  the  wharf,  and  no.hmg 
would  do  but  I  must  come  to  you  this  mormng 

Mr  Gardenell  was  very  grateful  to  this  good 
man  and  his  wife.    They  never  would  take  a 
penny   of    passage-money   for    Ray,   h-t    were 
made  happy  in  numberless  ways  by  the  bo 
parents  in  the  following  weeks  and  years, 
Ly  felt  this  was  a  debt  they  could  never  repay. 

Of  the  months  spent  prior  .0  his  voyage  home 


I 
I 

f»  'if 


284 


CAUSE    FOR   REJOICING 


Ray  had  revealed  nothing  to  these  friends.  His 
parents  must  hear  that  from  his  own  lips. 

Herbert  arrived  on  the  noon  train  to  add  to 
the  joy  of  the  occasion.  Unlike  the  brother  of 
that  Bible  prodigal  he  was  unstinted  in  his 
attentions  to  the  returned  wanderer ;  nothing 
was  too  hard  to  perform  that  brought  him  com- 
fort or  pleasure.  It  was  ample  recompense  for 
many  weary  watchings  when  one  day  Ray 
opened  his  eyes  and  said,  with  much  of  his  old- 
time  vivacity  as  he  caught  sight  of  Herbert's 
book,  "What,  old  fellow,  still  pegging  away  >  " 

After  that  he  came  back  to  himself  rapidly. 
In  a  day  or  two  he  sat  up,  received  Olive  and 
the  little  fellows  later,  and  finally  was  carried, 
chair-fashion,  to  the  dining-room  below,  by 
Stanton  and  Herbert,  who  had  constituted 
themselves  his  body-guard. 

Yes,  Stanton  Cartwright  was  with  them. 
Vacation  coming  a  few  days  after  Herbert's 
return,  left  him  free,  and  Mr.  Gardenell  felt  he 
must  have  him.     Ray  was  soon  able  to  be  re- 


■»H  ,r 


il--:i^-.»^.-t.^''rfr-'^^;«--'^---' 


^^^^!M^ 


REJOICING. 

J  to  these  friends.     His 
rom  his  own  lips, 
ic  noon  train  to  add  to 
Unlike  the  brother  of 

was  unstinted  in  his 
ncd  wanderer ;  nothing 
that  brought  him  com- 

ample  recompense  for 

when  one  day  Ray 
1,  with  much  of  his  old- 
ght  sight  of   Herbert's 

still  pegging  away  .'  " 
)ack  to  himself  rapidly. 

up,  received  Olive  and 
and  finally  was  carried, 
lining-room    below,    by 

who  had  constituted 
rd. 

right  was  with  them. 
r  days  after  Herbert's 
1  Mr.  Gardenell  felt  he 
/as  soon  able  to  be  re- 


CAUSE   FOK    RF.JOICING. 


285 


n.oved  to  Bioomingle,  and  a  delightful  two  weeks 
fallowed  before  young  Cartwright  turned  towards 
nother  and  the  farm.  Every  voice  urged  his 
longer  stay;  each  had  the  same  answer,  "I  am 

needed  at  home."     To  Mrs.  Gardenell.  whose 
favorite  he  was.  he  said  more:  "You  know  how 

mothers  miss  their  big  t^ys?" 

..  Yes  •  and  I  must  not  rob  any  mother  of  such 
a  boy;  but  you  are  very  dear -like  an  own  son 

to  us,  Stanton." 

.■Thank  you,"  he  replied,  kissing  her  tenderly. 
..You  will  send  me  the  best  of  news  soon. 
Ray '"he  said,  on  parting  with  the  invahd. 

Ray  understood  him.     -<  Stanton,  just  hold  on 
for  me  and  wait.     I  hardly  know  myself  yet. 

Herbert  and  Mr.  Gardenell  were  to  accom- 
pany  Stanton  to  the  city.  The  two  young  men 
stood  on  the  veranda  awaiting  the  gentleman 
the  morning  of  the  departure.     Cartwright  had 

lust  received  the  warmest  of  caresses  in  partmg 
from  Mrs.  Gardenell,  and  turned  to  Olive,  hid- 
den somewhat  as  she  stood  beside  Ray. 


CAUSE   FOR  REJOICING, 


286 


"Aren't  you  going  to  kiss  me  good-by,  Olive?" 
he  asked,  stretching  out  his  hand,  as  she  re- 
mained in  the  background. 

"  I'm  too  big  to  kiss  boys  now,"  she  answered 
half-saucily,  half-shyly. 

"  Why,  Olive  !  "  cried  Herbert,  "  not  this  boy." 

"  And  I've  grown  big  enough  to  kiss  you  in- 
stead," laughed  Cartwright,  lifting  her  chin  and 
placing  the  caress  on  her  lips. 

"Another  law  of  compensation,"  said  Her- 
bert, joining  the  laugh. 

"Delightful!"  chimed  in  Ray,  "and  never 
brought  to  my  notice  before.  Lucky  chaps  !  I 
begin  to  estimate  my  privileges.  I've  been  won- 
dering what  I  should  do  when  too  big  to  be 
kissed.  I  see.  Then  I  shall  come  into  liberty 
to  kiss.  Poor  Princess !  You've  had  your  day 
and  it's  over ;  you  are  only  a  girl.  I  pity  you, 
but  submission's  the  word." 

"  Spare  your  pity  till  it's  called  for,"  returned 
Stanton  with  a  sly  little  laugh.  "  Judging  from 
my  past  experience  it  isn't  such  a  fearful  thing 


i 


-JTS  .- 


i'^iuilT^- 


V.  Lv'-*ft-aj!**(-c 


.-rt^™^-?-"3£:rjr7  usr,t^. 


REJOICING. 

kiss  me  good-by,  Olive  ? " 

ut  hrs  hand,  as  she  re- 

Lind. 

)oys  now,"  she  answered 

Herbert,  "  not  this  boy. 
g  enough  to  kiss  you  in- 
ght,  lifting  her  chin  and 
;r  lips. 
)mpensation,"  said   Her- 


:d  in  Ray,  "and  never 
efore.  Lucky  chaps !  I 
r'vileges.  I've  been  won- 
do  when  too  big  to  be 
[  shall  come  into  liberty 
1 !     You've  had  your  day 

only  a  girl.  I  pity  you, 
)rd." 

it's  called  for,"  returned 
;  laugh.  "Judging  from 
sn't  such  a  fearful  thing 


CAUSE   FOR   REJOICING. 


287 


to  submit  in  such  cases.     I  see  my  kiss  has  only 
turned  pearl  to  ruby." 

The  ruby  flashed  just  then.  "Boys  always 
see  too  much  and  take  too  much  tor  granted. 
I  shall  always  kiss  when  and  whom  I  please."  — 
Here  Ray  encored.  -  "  Papa,  papa,"  running  to 
meet  that  gentleman,  who  just  then  appeared, 
and  thus  hide  her  confusion. 

"She   appeals   to   boys   of   a  larger  growth. 
Courage,  Stanton  ;  you  and  I  will  grow  in  years 

and  wisdom." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  sadly  need  the  last,  Ray." 

laughed  mamma  just   then,  pitying  her  girlie. 

"  I  see  you  are  getting  well  fast.     We  shall  have 

to  furnish  you  with  something  substantial  soon 

on  which  to  sharpen  your  wits." 

Tne  summer  at  Bloomingle  passed,  oh!  so 
sweetly.  No  company  after  Stanton  left  except 
an  occasional  visit  from  a  friend.  The  hours 
were  quiet,  restful,  and  freighted  with  peace. 
The  brothers  took  short  rambles  '  ogether,  pleas- 
ant rides ;  Herbert  read  aloud  while  Ray  lounged 


288 


CAUSE   FOR   REJOICING. 


near,  and  ofttimes  papa  and  mamma  and  Olive 
were  part  of  his  audience.  They  lingered  long 
in  the  beautiful  spot  — until  it  was  nearly  time 
for  Herbert  to  go  back  to  college. 

His  summer  had  not  been  unimproved.    Many 

and  long  were  the  conversations   he   and   Ray 

held  together  over  better  things,  and  one  night, 

just  at  dusk,  he  rapped  at  his  mother's  door. 

"  Come  in,  my  son  ! "     She  knew  his  step. 

At  the  open  window  she  was  gazing  out  over 

the   water,   Olive's   voice  as   she   sang   to   her 

father  while   they  rowed  lazily   along,   floating 

over  the  waves  to  her.     It  was  the  then   new 

hymn  that  made  Sankey  famous:  "The  Ninety 

and  Nine." 

Herbert  dropped  beside  his  mother  to  listen. 

"  Rejoice,  for  the  Lord  has  found  His  own," 
rang  out  the  clear,  sweet  voice. 

"  That's  it,  mamma ;  the  very  story  I  came  to 
tell ;  'the  Lord  has  found  his  own.'  " 

She  turned  and  put  her  soft  palm  on  his  cheek 
caressingly. 


m   REJOICING. 

pa  and  mamma  and  Olive 
ience.     They  lingered  long 
—  until  it  was  nearly  time 
ick  to  college. 
)t  been  unimproved.    Many 
onversations   he   and   Ray 
ttcr  things,  and  one  night, 
ed  at  his  mother's  door. 
!  "     She  knew  his  step. 
)W  she  was  gazing  out  over 
voice  as   she   sang   to   her 
Dwcd  lazily   along,   floating 
ler.     It  was  the  then   new 
nkey  famous:  "The  Ninety 

beside  his  mother  to  listen. 
;  Lord  has  found  His  own," 
sweet  voice. 

na ;  the  very  story  I  came  to 
found  his  own.' " 
»ut  her  soft  palm  on  his  cheek 


¥*> 


■tH 


n* 


CAUSE   FOR   REJOICING. 


:^89 


^ 

B 


"  You  mean  Ray,  my  son  ?  " 

"I  mean  Ray;"  and  just  then  there  was  an- 
other tap  at  the  door. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  mother  encouragingly  ;  and 
with  a  gentle  pressure  of  her  hand  which  she  un- 
derstood, Herbert  vanished  out  of  one  door  as  his 
brother  entered  the  other.  Herbert  knew  Ray 
would  like  to  have  mother  to  himsdf.  Seated 
at  another  window  their  voices  reached  him,  but 
conveyed  no  meaning  ;  only  the  soft  murmur  of 
ea'^nest  tones. 

"  Darling  mamma,  I  am  found,  found,  found  ! " 
That  was  what  Ray  said,  and  she  kissed  his  lips 
for  every  repetition  of  the  precious  word. 

"  I  have  almost  believed  it  ever  since  God 
brought  me  home.  With  home  it  seemed  as  if 
I  got  Him  —  Jesus;  and  when  I  lay  in  my  own 
bed  it  seemed  his  arms,  and  your  kisses  were 
his  tender  pardons  pressed  on  my  heart.  I  could 
not  think  much,  I  dared  not  believe  it  true.  I 
cannot  reason  it  out  now,  but  I  believe  He  is 
mine,  and  I  know "  —  emphatically  —  "I  am 


i 


290 


CAUSE   FOR   REJOICING. 


his  — all  his,  mamma ;  body,  soul,  spirit,  forever, 
ever  more.   I  am  given  away  ;  I  am  not  my  own  ; 
I  will  not  be  ;  I  am  so  glad  to  get  rid  of  myself. 
O,  little  mother !    Herbert  is  just  a  saint  —  a  liv- 
ing, loving,  manly  saint ;  the  kind  Heaven  loves  ; 
and  I  want  you  to  ask  God  to  make  me  as  nearly 
like  him  as  it  is  possible." 
"  Like  Jesus,  you  niean  ? " 
"  Yes,  like  Jesus ;  for  that  is  just  what  Her- 
bert is."     And  just  then  over  the  waters  came 
again  Olive's  sweet  refrain :  "  Rejoice,  for  the 
Lord  brings  back  his  own,"  and  leaning  from 
her  window  mamma  echoed  it  full  and  clear  and 
sweet.     It   fell   on   her   husband's   ear  like  an 
angel-note  out  of  the  sky  above  as  it  descended 
on  them:   "Rejoice,  for  the  Lord  brings  back 

his  own." 

He  bared  his  head,  he  dropped  his  oar,  and 
just  then  two  strong  manly  voices,  with  simul- 
taneous impulse,  caught  up  her  words  and  sent 
them  back :  "  Rejoice,  for  the  Lord  brings  back 
his  own." 


I 

/ 


irit,  forever, 
»ot  my  own  ; 
d  of  myself, 
jaint — aliv- 
eaven  loves ; 
me  as  nearly 


5t  what  Her- 
waters  came 
oice,  for  the 
leaning  from 
nd  clear  and 

ear  like  an 
,  it  descended 

brings  back 

his  oar,  and 
s,  with  simul- 
ords  and  sent 
d  brings  back 


CHAPTER   XXill. 

CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 

Heaven  is  not  always  angry  when  he  strikes, 
But  most  chastises  those  whom  most  he  likes. 

John  Pomfrst. 

THE  rower  understood  the  import  of  that 
refrain,  so  did  the  girl  beside  him.  Not 
a  word  she  utteied  as  he  hastened  shoreward; 
her  singing  was  over  for  ihat  night ;  and  as  the 
boat  touched  the  wharf  she  sprang  over  the 
ground,  into  the  house  and  to  her  own  room. 

One  watcher  saw  her  and  presently  as  she 
sobbed,  a  sorrowful .  little  heap  upon  her  bed, 
some  one  stooped  over  her,  and,  picking  her  up, 
carried  her  in  his  arms  to  a  rocking-chair. 

"Ollie  darling,  the  Shepherd  has  room  for 
another  in  his  arms ;  is  it  you  ? " 
No  answer. 

991 


% 

■  r 


292 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


"  OlHe,  little  sister,  will  you  let  Him  have  his 
own  ? " 

Still  no  answer. 

"  Ollie,  my  life  for  yours,  my  soul  for  yours, 
if  it  were  possible,  because  I  love  you.  His 
greater  love  accomplished  both  ;  will  you  thank 
Him  ? " 

Still  she  was  silent;  not  even  a  sob,  now. 
Only  a  face  pressed  close  to  his  bosom  as  she 
clune:  to  him. 

"  I  cannot  save  you,  darling,  or  I  would.  Papa, 
mamma,  Ray  —  we  are  all  powerless.  One  only 
is  mighty  to  save.     Will  you  let  Him  .' " 

Not  one  word.  He  held  her  close,  and  rocked 
back  and  forth  in  quiet  for  awhile,  then  asked  in 
a  tone  she  always  answered,  "  Olive,  will  you,  or 
will  you  not,  take  my  Christ  for  your  Saviour  ? " 

"  I  can't  —  oh  !  I  can't." 

"  Do  you  mean  I  will  not  ? " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  I  can't,  Hervie  ;  really  and  truly 
I  can't.  You  have  all  left  me,  and  I  am  miser- 
able, but  I  can't." 


JSED. 


t  Him  have  his 


soul  for  yours, 
ove  you.  His 
will  you  thank 


n  a  sob,  now. 
bosom  as  she 

I  would.  Papa, 
;ss.  One  only 
^im .' " 

ose,  and  rocked 
,  then  asked  in 
ve,  will  you,  or 
3ur  Saviour  ? " 


really  and  truly 
nd  I  am  miser- 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


293 


In  vain  he  plead,  reasoned,  prayed  with  her. 
At  last  he  rose  to  go. 

"  Olive,"  h     said  sadly,   "  this  may  be  my 
last  opportunity  to  plead  with  you.      If  you 
would  as  persistently  say  '  I  will,'  as  you  now 
say  '  I  can't,'  Heaven  would  rejoice  over  another 
found.     I  am  sorry  for  you ;  you  are  in  danger. 
Promise  me  at  least  this  much,  that  you  will  de- 
cide once  and  for  all,  either  for  or  against  my 
Lord  before  you  write  to  me  again.     Then  send 
me  your  decision.     Oli'  e,  what   you  need  now 
is  to  face  your  own  soul  and  the  truth,  and  de- 
cide.    It  rests  entirely  with  you,  and  with  you 
only,  whether  you  will  be  saved  or  lost.     Will 
you   promise   me.>      I   am   going  away  in   the 
morning." 

"Yes;"  she  promised  him  reluctantly,  and 
then  sobbed  herself  to  sleep  ;  Herbert's  solem- 
nity frightened  her. 

One,  two,  three,  four  — the  weeks  passed 
rapidly.  Back  to  the  city  again.  Rsy  was  well 
enough  to  begin  study  once  more,  under  papa  who 


I 


m 


ViA 


I 

■Si 


■at 


f^r 


iHtlflk 


294      CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 

would  make  a  careful  teacher,  and  Olive  went 
back  to  school.     Many  and  pleasant  were  the  let- 
ters  from  Herbert,  full  of  college  life  and  Stan- 
ton, with  sweet  and  frequent  messages  to  Olive, 
and  occasional  little  notes,  but  r.ot  a  word  as  yet 
had  .he  written   in   return.     That  question  he 
left  with  her  to  settle  kept  her  uneasy  and  rest- 
less most  of  the  time.     She  was  not  ready  to 
face  it.  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  felt 
almost    indignant    with    her    brother,  since   it 
stood    between    her    and    the    correspondence 

she  love'i. 

Winter  set  in  early  and  severe,  the  thermome- 
ter way  below  zero,  with  fierce  and  bitter  winds. 
The  sudden  cold  made  work  for  kind  hands  in 
many  a  destitute  family.  Coming  home  from 
such  an  errand  one  day  Mr.  Gardenell  met  a 
servant  girl  at  the  door  with  a  telegram  in  her 
hand  a  boy  had  just  delivered. 

It  was  customary  for  his  wife  to  read  and 
answer  such  communications  when  he  was  away, 
but  her  head  was  aching  to-day,  and   she  had 


USED. 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


295 


and  Olive  went 
ant  were  the  let- 
e  life  and  Stan- 
issages  to  Olive, 
,ot  a  word  as  yet 
hat  question  he 
uneasy  and  rest- 
ras  not  ready  to 
;  in  her  life  felt 
brother,  since   it 
correspondence 

re,  the  thermome- 
and  bitter  winds. 

"or  kind  hands  in 

lining  home  from 
Gardenell  met   a 

a  telegram  in  her 

wife  to  read  and 
when  he  was  away, 
.day,  and   she  had 


fallen  into  a  light  sleep,  from  which  Ray  had 
said  she  must  not  be  awakened. 

Satisfied  with  the  girl's  explanation,  the  gen- 
tleman said,  "It  is  doubtless  of  little  impor- 
tance," and  passed  on  to  the  study.  The  warm 
room  with  the  welcome  glow  in  the  fireplace  was 
pleasant  after  the  dreary  scene  from  which  he 
had  come.  "  God  is  good  to  me,"  he  said,  donning 
dressing-gown  and  slippers  and  seating  himself 
in  an  easy  chair  before  he  opened  his  telegram. 

What !     He  started  as  if  shot. 

"  Your  son  lies  very  low  —  accident  —  come  immediately.  — 
Dr.  W." 

He  sat  stunned.  His  son!  What  son. ^  Not 
Herbert?  O,  no!  not  him.  What  harm  had 
evei,  could  ever  touch  him.'  That  danger  could 
approach  this  precious  child  had  never  entered 
his  thoughts  before.     But  who  else  had  he  at 

H ?    Was   the  telegram  for  him,  anyway  .' 

He  looked  at  the  address,  then  the  signature,  and 

groaned.     He  knew   Dr.  W well  ;   he  was 

the  last  man  to  alarm  anybody  unnecessarily. 


*.. 


MW* 


296 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


He  read  the  words  again  :  "  Lying  low,"  "  ac- 
cident." Were  there  any  accidents  with  God  ? 
Could  Heaven  want  his  son  ?  He  took  out  his 
watch  ;  an  hour  and  a  half  before  the  next  train. 
How  interminable  that  time! 

He  got  up  and  walked  the  floor,  a  life-long 
habit  when  troubled  or  perplexed.  Herbert 
suffering,  needing  him,  dying,  perhaps,  without 
him.  He  staggered  and  sat  down  again.  If 
he  was  only  there !  What  could  he  do  if  he 
was  ?  His  impotency,  his  utter  helplessness  and 
nothingness  broke  on  him  as  never  before.  His 
wife!  Who  would  break  this  news  to  her? 
Could  he.'  yet  there  was  no  one  else.  How 
would  Ray  bear  this  in  his  shattered  condition  ? 
Olive }  then  he  groaned  again ;  her  idolized 
brother. 

He  fell  on  his  knees  —  his  never-failing  refuge  : 

"  Lord,  Lord,  Lord !  yet  will  we  trust,  though 
the  earth  be  removed.  Thy  will  is  right,  thy 
will  is  best.  I  know  not  anything,  O,  my  lov- 
ing Lord ! " 


^^^^H 


.\   ' 


USED. 

ying  low,"  "ac- 
:nts  with  God  ? 
[c  took  out  his 
:  the  next  train. 

loor,  a  life-long 
:xcd.  Herbert 
lerhaps,  without 
own  again.  If 
Id  he  do  if  he 
helplessness  and 
-er  before.  His 
news  to  her? 
3ne  else.  How 
ered  condition  ? 
I ;    her   idolized 

;r-failing  refuge : 
ve  trust,  though 
ill  is  right,  thy 
ling,  O,  my  lov- 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


297 


That  was  all  he  could  say,  but  the  answer 
came:  "To  them  that  have  no  might  He  in- 
creaseth  strength."  Ah  I  he  could  claim  that, 
surely,  "  no  might."  He  rose  calmed,  comforted, 
and  went  to  seek  his  wife  and  children. 

But  as  he  went  he  thought  of  Horace  Ger- 
maine.  So  the  telephone  sent  out  its  message 
again  :  — 

"Can  you  go  with  me  on  the  next  train  to 
H ?     Herbert  lies  low  ;   accident." 

A  few  questions,  then,  "  I  will  meet  you  at 
the  depot." 

Yensic  had  waked  from  her  sleep  refreshed. 
He  entered  softly  and  knelt  beside  her  chair. 
"God  is  good,  Ennie,"  he  said  tenderly. 

Ah  !  She  read  below  the  words.  "  Herbert, 
husband,"  —  she  was  on  her  feet ;  she  knew  she 
was  needed  ;  must  be  brave  to  meet  some  sor- 
row, —  "you  have  bad  news." 

"I  have  sad  news,"  he  corrected.  "A  tele- 
gram, love ;  I  must  take  the  next  train  to  H .'' 

She  turned  on  him  startled  eyes. 


298 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


"  Some  one  needs  you  there  ? "  inquiringly. 
"Our   son.      Yensie,   what    if    Herbert    has 
received  his  call  ? " 
"  To  Africa  ? " 

"  No,  to  glory.  What  if  they  need  him  in 
Heaven .-' " 

She  put  out  her  hands  and  he  drew  her  to  his 
heart.  "  He  lives,  but  he  lies  low  ;  that  is  how 
the  message  reads." 

"  I  must  go  with  ycu,  Herbert." 
"  Can  you,  dear  wife  ;  are  you  able  ? " 
"Could  I   stay  here?     Herbert,  I   must   go. 
Ring  for  Mary  Ann  ;   I  will  be  ready." 

"Brave  little  woman,"  he  said.  "I  will  go 
and  prepare  Ray  and  Olive  for  our  departure." 

"Go  to  Olive,  I  will  see  Ray,"  and  as  the 
maid  gathered  a  few  necessities  into  a  valise 
Mrs.  Gardenell  sought  Ray  in  the  parlor  below, 
where  he  sat  at  the  piano,  and  Mr.  Gardenell 
knocked  at  Olive's  door. 

"  Oi  papa  !  is  it  you  ?  Come  in.  Did  mamma 
tell  you  about  our  nice  little  plan  ?     I  am  to  em- 


i 


\  i 


•31 


lOUSED. 


?"  inquiringly, 
if    Herbert    has        ( 


hey  need  him   in 

he  drew  her  to  his 
low  ;  that  is  how 

ouable?" 
rbert,  I   must   go. 
e  ready." 

said.  •'  I  will  go 
r  our  departure." 
Ray,"  and  as  the 
ities  into  a  valise 
1  the  parlor  below, 
ind   Mr.  Gardenell 

le  in.    Did  mamma 
jlan  1     I  am  to  em- 


CONSCIENCE   FULLY   ROUSED. 


299 


broider  Herbert  a  pa'r  of  slippers  all  myself  for 
his  birthday-  a  beautiful  pair,  with  great  pan- 
sies  on  the  toes."  This  was  Olive's  little  com- 
promise with  her  conscience ;  Herbert  must  feel 
so  hurt  at  her  long  silence. 

Her  father  took  her  on  his  knee.  "I  have 
had  news  from  Herbert,"  he  said.  And  then 
she  noticed  his  gravity,  and  that  something  in 
his  voice. 

"Papa,  what  has  happened  to  Hervie  —  my 
Hervie  }    O,  papa !  is  he  dead  } " 

"  No,  thank  God,  not  dead.  Olive,  can  you  be 
brave  for  my  sake  and  mamma's  —  for  Hervie's 
sake .'  Ray  is  not  strong  yet,  and  somebody 
must  care  for  him  and  keep  him  cheerful  while 

mamma  and  I  go  to  H .     Is  my  girlie  brave 

enough  to  read  this  telegram  > " 

He  held  it  under  the  gaslight  while  she  read 
it  with  compressed  lips  and  dry  eyes. 

"  Papa,  go  quickly,"  she  said.  "  O,  papa !  go 
to  him  now.  I  will  take  care  of  Ray  —  of  every- 
thing; you  and  mamma  go." 


"And  have  you  no  message  for  him  ? "  Her 
father  had  expected  she  would  beg  to  go,  too ; 
she  surprised  him. 

"  Papa,  I  love  him,  love  him,  love  him.  Papa, 
I  shall  die  if  he  dies,  and  I  deserve  it." 

"  My  darling,  no,  you  will  not  die,  but  you  will 
pray,  you  and  Ray ;  ask  that  his  precious  life  be 
spared."  Then  Mr.  Gardenell  kibsed  fondly  his 
little  daughter's  ''aee  and  hastened  to  order  the 
carriage. 

How  dreadful  were  the  weeks  that  followed  ! 
Telegrams  came  often  during  the  first  two  days. 
"He  was  unconscious."  "Prof.  Germaine  had 
some  hope  for  him."  "Still  unconscious,"  etc. 
Then  came  a  letter  from  mamma. 

A  not  uncommon  story  it  related.  This  pre- 
cious life  was  almost  lost  by  the  daring  of  a 
schoolmate  who  recklessly  ventured  on  the  ice 
before  it  was  fit  for  skating.  Herbert  saw  him 
go  under  and  plunged  in  after.  Waiting  hands 
seized  the  frightened  youth  as  his  rescuer 
brought  him  to  the  surface,  but  by  some  chance 


for  him?"     Her 
I  beg  to  go,  too ; 

love  him. 
erve  it." 
:  die,  but  you  will 
is  precious  life  be 
kibsed  fondly  his 
ened  to  order  the 


k 
31 


cs  that  followed  ! 

he  first  two  days. 

i.  Germaine  had 

nconscious,"  etc. 

ima. 

lated.  This  pre- 
the  daring  of  a 

tured  on  the  ice 

Herbert  saw  him 

Waiting  hands 

as    his    rescuer 

by  some  chance 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


301 


Herbert  slipped  back  under  the  ice,  hitting  his 
head,  it  was  feared,  in  some  way. 

Only  Stanton  Cartwright's  prompt  action 
saved  their  dear  one  from  immediate  death 
Crawling  over  the  rotten  ice  and  placing  boards 
where  he  could  grasp  them,  he  dived  down  again 
and  yet  again,  coming  to  the  surface  for  breath, 
while  his  eager  mates  cheered  him  on. 

His  efforts  were  crowned  with  success,  and  he 
never  left  his  friend's  bedside  until  his  parents 
arrived.  Herbert  was  still  unconscious ;  his 
brain  was  the  seat  of  trouble,  but  the  physicians 
now  saw  favorable  symptoms.  If  he  recovered, 
it  would  be  slowly,  and  a  long  time  before  he 
could  be  removed  to  his  home.  They  must  be 
patient  and  pray  much.  So  the  days  dragged 
on. 

What  days  these  were  to  Olive  !  How  filled 
with  self-upbraidings  and  anguish.  Conscience, 
fully  roused,  gave  her  no  rest.  Her  dry  eyes 
refused  to  weep,  and  had  it  not  been  for  Ray 
what  would  she  have  done  ? 


I 


i 


I 


\  i 

■  ! 


302 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


It  seemed  strange  to  be  clinging  in  this 
fashion  to  Ray,  but  he  had  grown  so  suddenly 
brave  and  helpful  and  strong.  To  his  side  he 
drew  her,  in  his  arms  he  rocked  her  —  great  girl 
as  she  now  was  — beside  her  he  knelt  and 
prayed  ;  for,  as  he  said,  and  she  assented,  "  God 
is  our  only  help." 

"  I  can't  ask  Him,  but  you  can,"  she  said  one 

day. 

"But  you  must,  Olive.     The  promise  is  to 

two  who  agree." 

"Oh!  I  agree,  I  agree,"  she  said,  and  then 
he  urged  salvation  upon  her.  She  opened  to  him 
her  heart  and  how  she  had  resisted  the  Spirit ; 
he  understood  that.  "But  you  do  not  resist 
longer;  you  do  give  yourself  to  God  now?"  he 
asked  eagerly. 

"I  must,"  she  answered.  "If  he  spares 
Hervie,  I  will  love  Him  forever,  and  if  — if 
Hervie  dies,  I  must  go  where  he  is  ;  I  could  not 
live  an  eternity  without  him.  But  I  fear  God 
does  not  want  such  love  as  that." 


)USED. 

linging  in  this 
:)wn  so  suddenly 
To  his  side  he 
her  — great  girl 
■  he  knelt  and 
!  assented,  "  God 

an,"  she  said  one 

le  promise  is  to 

le  said,  and  then 
>he  opened  to  him 
iisted  the  Spirit ; 
ou  do  not  resist 
to  God  now?"  he 

"  If  he  spares 
rever,  and  if=— if 
he  is  ;  I  could  not 

But  I  fear  God 
hat." 


CONSCIENCE  FULLY  ROUSED. 


303 


"  God  puts  up  with  so  little  till  we  can  give 
him  more,"  said  Ray.  "  He  is  different  from 
us,  Princess.  He  will  fill  your  heart  full  if  you 
only  give  him  a  chance.  You  see  I  know,  for 
no  one  could  bring  less  to  him  than  I  did,  and  I 
feel  sure  he  will  spare  Herbert  to  us." 

So,  strangely  enough,  not  Herbert  but  Ray 
was  privileged  to  bring  Olive  to  Ciirist. 

Yes,  Herbert  would  live;  the  news  came 
one  day  in  the  shape  of  Prof.  Germaine  him- 
self, with  the  happiest  of  faces  and  the  light- 
est of  hearts. 

"We  all  have  reason  to  praise  God,"  he  said 
fervently,  kissing  Olive's  cheek,  "  for  he  only  is 
to  be  praised.  I'd  give  more  for  an  ounce  of 
prayer  than  pounds  of  medicine  in  a  case  like 
this,  and  you  have  helped  on  the  cure.  Make 
haste  and  grow  your  roses.  Blossom,  before 
Herbert  misses  them." 

How  sweet  to  have  them  all  home  again  — 
papa  and  mamma  and  Herbert.  Yes ;  and 
Stanton,  too.     He  came  for  a  few  days,  and 


1 


i 


everybody  vied  with  each  other  in  their  atten- 
tions to  him.  He  told  Olive,  as  she  pinned  a 
gay  little  bouquet  from  the  conservatory  in  his 
button-hole  one  day,  that  he  "  feared  he  would 
be  quite  spoiled,  but  he  enjoyed  it  immensely." 
And  there  isn't  a  doubt  that  he  did. 

Rapidly  Herbert  recovered  now  that  he  had 
begun,  and  it  was  joy  enough  for  Olive  just  to 
sit  by  his  side  and  hear  his  voice.  How  could 
she  help  loving  God  now.^  She  felt  she  did 
with  all  her  soul,  and  her  first  words  to  Herbert 
after  his  coming  home  were  :  — 

"  I've  decided,  and  it's  beautiful  to  belong  to 
Jesus.  Oh !  Hervie  darling,  if  you  will  only 
forgive  me." 


>USED. 

in  their  atteh- 
is  she  pinned  a 
servatory  in  his 
eared  he  would 
1  it  immensely." 
iid. 

ow  that  he  had 
)r  Olive  just  to 
ce.  How  could 
le  felt  she  did 
ords  to  Herbert 

ul  to  belong  to 
you  will  only 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


A    WORTHY   RESUME. 


"The  sweetest  lives  are  those  to  duty  wed, 

Where  deeds  both  great  and  small, 
Are  close-knit  strands  of  one  unbroken'thread, 
When  love  ennobles  all." 


ANOTHER  peep  into  the  Gardenell  man- 
sion and  then  good-by. 
There  are  many  changes,  first  of  which  is 
Mary  Ann  McAloon  no  longer  presides  over 
the  nursery.  Truth  to  tell,  there  is  no  longer  a 
nursery  or  a  Mary  Ann  McAloon.  Harry  and 
Eddie  are  anything  but  babies,  and  their  nurse 
has  changed  her  name  and  vocation.  It  hap- 
pened on  this"  wise :  — 

"  Shure,  Mrs.  Gardenell,  it's  yerself  knows  I 
love  you  all,"  she  began  one  day.  "  But  there's 
Dick  the  coachman  ;  he's  that  anxious  about 

30s 


,1 

it 

I 


lil 


306 


A    WORTHY   RESUME. 


being  married,  I  don't  see  as  there's  any  getting 

rid  of  him." 

"  Why,  Mary  Ann,  what  do  you  mean  ?  You 
can't  think  of  marrying  a  man  to  get  rid  of 
him?"  replied  Mrs.  Gardenell  in  feigned  as- 
tonishment. 

"  Well,  the  children,  God  bless  them  !  is  well 
up.  Mis',  and  me  work's  clane  gone  from  me 
hands.     What  is  there  left  for  me  to  do  ? " 

"  You  will  always  be  loved  and  needed  here, 
dear  girl,"  replied  her  mistress,  smiling.  "  You 
have  been  faithful  to  us,  Mary  Ann,  and  as  the 
children  grow  up  their  respect  for  you  will  in- 
crease. You  are  just  like  one  of  the  family. 
Don't  leave  me  unless  your  heart  really  leads 

you  away." 

"  Me  heart  is  it  ?  Me  heart  was  all  gone  to 
the  babbies,  mum,  long  ago,  and  little  of  it'll  be 
left  for  anybody,  I'm  thinking.  But  Dick,  he's 
willin'  to  take  it,  such  as  it  is,  and  he  needs  a 

home." 

"That's  a  poor  reason  for  marrying  a  man, 


4 


lere's  any  getting 

you  mean  ?  You 
an  to  get  rid  of 
11  in  feigned  as- 

ess  them  !  is  well 
e  gone  from  me 
me  to  do  ? " 
and  needed  here, 
i,  smiling.  "  You 
y  Ann,  and  as  the 
:t  for  you  will  in- 
ne  of  the  family, 
heart  really  leads 

rt  was  all  gone  to 
ind  little  of  it'll  be 
g.  But  Dick,  he's 
is,  and  he  needs  a 

•  marrying  a  man, 


A  WORTHY   RESUME. 


307 


Mary  Ann.  If  he  loves  you  and  offers  you  a 
home,  you  ought  to  be  able  to  return  love  for 
love,  to  deal  honestly." 

"  And  whoiver  said  I  didn't  love  him,  now ; 
To  be  sure  the  heart  is  all  hacked  like  and  de- 
stroyed with  the  children,  but  that's  neither  here 
or  there ;  if  the  bit  that's  left  su;»;s  him,  who's 
to  blame  ? " 

Yensie  smiled ;  she  saw  her  maid's  heart  was 
really  interested,  and  reluctantly  she  parted  with 
her.  The  children  made  a  great  fuss  over  the 
wedding,  and  each  gave  her  a  valuable  present, 
and  she  wept  bitterly  in  parting  with  her  "  dar- 
lints."  "Though,  to  be  shure,"  she  said,  "it's 
not  a  rod  off  I'm  goin',  and  me  house  is  always 
your  own,  me  pets,  as  I'm  well  shure  there'll  be 
always  a  place  for  me  in  the  big  house,  if  the 
worst  comes  to  the  worst." 

The  worst  has  not  come  to  the  worst  yet,  and 
Dick  and  Mary  Ann  still  occupy  their  snug 
cottage. 

The  nursery  became  a  sort  of  play  and  study 


t 


W,imt.am- 


f 


immmm 


i   i 

■IT 


308 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


room  after  her  departure,  and  the  old  study  room 
was  turned  in  time  into  a  "  scientific  curiosity- 
shop,"  to  quote  Ray,  through  the  untiring  efforts 
of  Harry  who  was  still  devoted  to  the  pursuit  of 
knowledge.  He  had  grown  to  be  a  tall,  fine  fel- 
low, much  resembling  Herbert  at  his  age,  and 
his  father  greatly  enjoyed  his  idiosyncrasies. 

Eddie,  more  slender  and  rarely  beautiful,  was 
now  quite  a  lad,  and  as  devoted  to  his  mother 
and  sister  as  they  could  wish.  Olive  was  exceed- 
ingly proud  of  him,  and  his  voice  was  sweet  and 
rare  as  her  own. 

Herbert  Gardenell's  one  choice  girlie  was 
quite  a  young  lady,  too  —  all  of  nineteen  ;  and  as 
intelligent  and  beautiful  and  helpful  as  her  papa's 
greatest  hope  for  her  had  pictured.  He  would 
hardly  know  how  to  live  without  her  constant 
devotion  and  help ;  and  mamma,  well,  she  called 
this  maiden  her  "fair  right-hand." 

Yes,  Olive  was  fair  to  look  upon,  and  one  of 
the  sunniest,merriest  girls  that  ever  made  home 
happy.     Copying  sermons  and  manuscript,  mak- 


it 


■T3*' — 5! 


^ 


\ 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


309 


e  old  study  room 
entific  curiosity- 
2  untiring  efforts 
to  the  pursuit  of 
)e  a  tall,  fine  fel- 
at  his  age,  and 
iosyncrasies. 
ly  beautiful,  was 
d  to  his  mother 
)live  was  exceed- 
e  was  sweet  and 

oice  girlie  was 
nineteen ;  and  as 
)ful  as  her  papa's 
ired.  He  would 
ut  her  constant 
,  well,  she  called 
1." 

jpon,  and  one  of 
ever  made  home 
nanuscript,  mak- 


ing muffins  and  cake,  amusing  the  children  at 
some  entertainment,  or  leading  in  some  prayer 
meeting,  she  was  always  the  same  cheerful, 
bright  self,  and  the  old  parishioners,  to  whom 
their  pastor  was  the  sum  of  all  excellence,  de- 
clared she  favored  him  more  than  any  of  his 
children. 

She  was  very  popular,  and  the  center  of  every 
merry  group  ;  her  Sabbath-school  class  —  six 
bright  boys  —  quoted  her  freely,  and  her 
brothers  were  vain  and  her  papa  glad  when  her 
sweet  voice  rang  out  God's  praises  every  Sab- 
bath morning.  That  voice  was  her  choice  gift, 
and  she  had  dedicated  it  to  her  King  and  sung 
many  a  soul  into  his  kingdom,  and  many  a  saint 
over  the  river  in  mission  room  and  lowly  cham- 
ber where  papa  and  mamma  ministered. 

Of  Ray  she  was  very  proud.  Her  tall,  elegant, 
handsome  brother,  who  during  vacation  some- 
times preached  for  papa.  Yet  her  heart  clung 
most  fondly  to  Herbert  still,  her  olden  comforter 
and  guide,  who  was  head  and  shoulders  spiritu- 


3IO 


A    WORTHY    RESUME. 


ally  and  intellectually,  above  most  of  the  men 
about  him. 

Yes,  Ray  was  to  be  a  minister ;  or,  as  he  put 
it,  a  "  parson."  The  love  of  Christ  had  given 
the  needed  impetus  to  his  life,  and  month  by 
month,  year  after  year,  his  parents  saw  him  de- 
velop in  grace,  manliness,  scholarship — in  all 
they  could  desire.  And  one  day,  covered  with 
honors,  the  handsomest,  most  brilliant  of  his 
class,  Raymond  Gardenell  received  the  congratu- 
lations of  his  teachers  and  friends  and  stepped 
out  to  take  his  place  in  the  arena  of  life. 

His  call  to  the  pulpit  had  come  first,  however. 
Clear,  unmistakable,  he  was  satisfied  Jesus  said 
to  him  "«•  to  his  apostle  of  old,  "Go  preach." 
And  row  he  had  been  invited  to  take  charge  of 
a  church  ;  yes,  several  of  them,  and  had  well- 
nigh  decided  which  was  the  field  he  was  to 
occupy.  He  seemed  the  only  person  surprised 
at  the  situation. 

"  Me  a  parson,  after  all ;  can  you  credit  your 
senses,  Herv  ?     I  wonder  if  it  is  myself  or  that 


1)! 


•%^ 


most  of  the  men 

ster ;  or,  as  he  put 
Christ  had  given 
fc,  and  month  by 
irents  saw  him  dc- 
holarship  —  in  all 
day,  covered  with 
it  brilliant  of  his 
ived  the  congratu- 
iends  and  stepped 
:na  of  life, 
ime  first,  however, 
itisfied  Jesus  said 
old,  "Go  preach." 
to  take  charge  of 
sm,  and  had  well- 
!  field  he  was  to 
^  person  surprised 

.n  you  credit  your 
t  is  myself  or  that 


A    WORTHY    RESUME. 


3" 


darky  sailor-boy  they  want  ? "  for  Ray  was  as 
mirth-loving  and  happy  as  ever. 

There  was  a  tap  at  mother's  door  early  one 
morning.  "  I  know  I  can  come  in,"  said  some 
one,  following  his  rap  immediately.  "  Mamma, 
can  you  spare  me  a  few  days  to  run  down  into 
Maine  ? " 

"  Maine  I  "  cried  mamma,  in  well-feigned  sur- 
prise. "  I  did.  ,'t  know  you  had  a  call  from 
Maine." 

"A  very  urgent  one,"  laughed  her  son,  taking 
her  right  into  his  arms  as  he  seated  himself. 
"Now,  precious  mamma,  stop  teasing  and  tell 
me  you  think  Gatty  Cartwright  the  dearest  girl 
in  the  world,  and  the  one  of  all  others  suited 
to  be  your  Ray's  wife." 

"  Gatty  is  a  precious  little  woman.  I  love  her 
dearly,  Ray." 

"  Of  course  you  do ;  every  one  loves  her," 
replied  the  young  man  exultantly.  "But  I 
wanted  to  hear  you  say  so,  and  go  to  her  with 
your  spoken  blessing." 


fl 


i! 


312 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


"Are  you  quite  sure  it  is  Number  Two  and 
'lot  Number  One  she  prefers  ? "  asked  the  lady 
mischievously. 

"Absolutely,  mother  mine.  She  likes  Her- 
bert, but  she  makes  eyes  at  me." 

"  O,  Ray,  Ray  ! "  laughed  his  mother.  "  Im- 
agine our  dear  lady-like  Gatty  '  making  eyes '  at 
my  big  boy." 

"Well,  I  only  judged  by  their  effect  on  that 
little  spot  under  my  vest,  mamma.  Tell  me  you 
think  her  an  angel." 

"  She  is  quite  good  enough  for  you,  if  not  an 
angel,"  said  mother  gayly.  "  Have  you  spoken 
to  your  father  ? " 

"  Not  yet.  Little  need ;  he  treats  no  other 
girl  but  Olive  as  he  does  Gatty.  When  dhe  was 
here  'ast  I  heard  him  call  her  'daughter'  so  ten- 
derly that  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she 
kissed  his  hand.  Then  he  stooped  and  said,  '  I 
would  rather  have  it  on  iny  iij-s,'  and  she  put  it 
there.  I  broke  the  tenth  commandment  on  the 
spot." 


UME. 

Number  Two  and 
? "  asked  the  lady 

,     She  likes  Her- 

le." 

his  mother.     "Im- 

I '  making  eyes '  at 

lieir  effect  on  that 
nma.     Tell  me  you 

for  you,  if  not  an 
'  Have  you  spoken 

he  treats  no  other 
ty.  When  she  was 
'daughter'  so  ten- 
ith  tears,  and  she 
ooped  and  said,  '  I 
\{\.i'  and  she  put  it 
mmandment  on  the 


A   WORTHY    RESUME, 


313 


"And  the  young  lady  herself?"  questioned 
mamma,  bound  to  tease  the  tall  boy  who  took 
so  much  for  granted. 

"I  am  a  Yankee,"  he  laughed.  "You  forget 
I  was  born  in  Vermont.  A  big  '  guess '  makes 
me  quite  comfortable ;  but  with  your  consent  I 
will  make  it  assurance  before  to-morrow  night." 

From  his  mother's  chamber  to  the  study, 
thence  to  the  breakfast-room,  where  his  brother 
waited  and  read. 

"  Herv,  you  can't  have  Gatty  Cartwright ;  she 
likes  me  best,"  said  the  irrepressible,  opening 
fire. 

"  Poor  me ! "  a  little  shi  <%  of  two  broad 
shoulders. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  my  boy,  but  you  are  cut 
out  for  a  bachelor,"  continued  Raymond. 

"  SelC-evideni  fact,"  two  blue  eyes  flashing 
up  from    the   absorbing   page  before  them. 

"  Bother  that  book !  you  are  wedded  to  letters. 
Herv,  I'm  bound  for  Maine  this  morning,"  were 
his  next  words. 


f^ 


mm 


314 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


I 


■I 


!    il 
i    I! 


i 


"  And  I'm  bound  to  wish  you  good  speed  and 
all  progress  in  your  main  project,  my  young 
brother." 

"  Now  that's  something  like ;  but,  Herv,  you 
are  wise :  what  if  the  young  lady  refuses  me 
with  thanks?" 

"  You  must  refuse  the  thanks  and  accept  the 
young  lady  without  them." 

"  Herbert,  I  admire  you !  what  a  cool  lover 
you  would  make." 

"  Of  another's  maiden  ?    I  should  hope  so." 

"  And  you  can  really  see  me  carry  off  Gatty 
Cartwright  without  an  inward  protest  ? " 

"  I  protest,  my  boy,  that  I  don't  see  anything 
of  the  kind,  but  my  faith  in  your  ability  is 
unbounded.     Good-morning,  father !  " 

What  a  merry  group  gathered  about  that 
breakfast-table  that  morning !  Immediately  after 
the  blessing  was  said  Olive  commenced, "  Papa, 
what  are  we  to  do  with  the  young  parson 
meandering  about  the  corridors  before  daylight 
and  disturbing  honest  folks  in  their  sleep .' " 


(     ! 


-4« 


UME. 

ou  good  speed  and 
iroject,  my  young 

e  ;  'but,  Herv,  you 
;  lady  refuses  me 

ks  and  accept  the 

what  a  cool  lover 


should  hope  so." 
ne  carry  off  Gatty 
protest  ? " 
lon't  see  anything 
in  your  ability  is 
ither ! " 

lered  about  that 
Immediately  after 
ommenced, "  Papa, 
le  young  parson 
rs  before  daylight 
n  their  sleep?" 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


315 


Raymond  sent  a  sly  glance  from  under  his 
lashes  in  the  direction  of  his  sister  as  he  helped 
himself  to  a  muffin.  "  For  instance,  honest 
folks  who  are  sitting  at  their  windows  writing 
before  daylight  —  wasn't  that  your  expression. 
Sis  ?  —  by  the  help  of  the  morning  star." 

Olive  blushed  crimson  and  exchanged  glances 
with  Herbert.  He,  and  he  only,  knew  she  was 
sending  forth  her  first  literary  venture. 

"  Fie,  Ray,"  she  said,  rallying.  "  You  are  a 
spy  as  well  as  a  somnambulist." 

"Not  guilty  on  either  charge,"  replied  her 
brother  good-naturedly.  "  I  could  not  help  see- 
ing you.  Princess,  as  I  leaned  from  my  window. 
I  appeal  to  mamma  if  she  was  not  up  and 
dressed  when  I  invaded  her  room,  and  I  heard 
papa  descend  some  time  before." 

Poor  papa ! "  Olive  patted  the  hand  near  her 
affectionately.  "  It  is  nothing  uncommon  for 
his  sleep  to  be  disturbed.  See  what  is  ahead 
of  you,  my  young  parson,  and  gamer  your 
strength.    Who  needed  you  this  morning,  papa  ? " 


3i6 


A  WORTHY   RESUME, 


"  Our  faithful  Mapes  ! " 
'•  No !    How  sorry  Achor  will  feel" 
"  Yes ;  he  left  a  message  for  her." 
"And  he  was  ready;  that  always  comforts 
your  heart.    What  would  they  all  do  without 

you  ? "  fondly.. 

-Get  some  one  younger  and  better,  perhaps. 
Mr.  Halladay  is  already  a  power  among  them; 
I  am  sorry  he  thinks  of  going  away." 

"  Papa,  I've  been  thinking  that  would  be  an 
excellent  field  for  Herbert.  Just  the  prepara- 
tion he  will  need  before  entering  his  broader 
field.  It  would  be  so  nice  to  have  him  near  us 
while  we  can  Africa  is  so  far  away !  "  with  a 
sigh  and  a  love-glance  at  her  brother. 

-I  had  thought  of  that,  too,  Olive.  If  it  is 
God's  way.  I  should  like  it.  If  he  has  his  way 
I  shall  not  be  much  disappointed.  J  am  at- 
tached to  the  Mission,  and  its  old  workers  love 
me.  Dear  old  Mapes  had  Mr.  Halladay  and 
didn't  need  me,  but  he  thought  he  did." 

"And  of  course  he  did.    No  one  could  fill 


I    ' 


-f'tsSaHi^^ 


CSUME. 

r  will  feel." 

for  her." 
hat  always  comforts 

they  all  do  without 

and  better,  perhaps. 

power  among  them; 
ing  away." 

ing  that  would  be  an 
rt.     Just  the  prepara- 

entering  his  broader 
;e  to  have  him  near  us 

so  far  away !  "  with  a 
ler  brother. 

at,  too,  Olive.  If  it  is 
it.  If  he  has  his  way 
isappointed.  I  am  at- 
nd  its  old  workers  love 
dad  Mr.  Halladay  and 
lought  he  did." 
did.     No  one  could  fill 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


317 


your  place,  papa,  not  even  your  worthy  son," 
with  a  naughty  little  glance  at  Raymond.  "  But 
then,  he'll  never  try.  He  doesn't  take  to  early 
rising ;  that  is  why  I  presage  some  pending  evil 
from  this  morning's  occurrence." 

"  Don't  presage.  Princess ;  it  isn't  healthy. 
Every  morning  does  not  find  me  en  route  for 
Maine." 

"  For  Maine !  "  incredulously. 

"  Yes,  sister  mine ;  don't  you  wish  you  were 
going,  too  }    I  do.    I'll  take  you  if  papa  says  so." 

"Perhaps  somebody  else  would  have  a  say 
in  the  matter." 

"  Certainly  ;  but  you  couldn't  say  anything 
but  Yes." 

"Indeed  !  I'd  say  No  decidedly." 

"  And  confirm  your  reputation  for  contrariety. 
What  message  shall  I  take  from  you  to  Stanton } 
You  knew  he  is  supplying  now  only  five  miles 
from  horae." 

Olive's  face  grew  rosy,  but  she  said,  "  I  have 
no  message." 


mtmam 


318 


A  WORTHY   RESUME 


Ray  dropped  his  fork  in  assumed  consterna- 
tion. 

"  Is  it  possible  you  have  answered  already 
that  half-quire  letter  that  arrived  yesterday? 
My  dear  sister,  you  might  have  saved  postage 
and  made  use  of  the  little  vest-pocket  next  to 
my  heart." 

"  Your  heart  already  carries  all  it  will  be  able 
to  deliver  safely,  I  fear,"  was  the  laughing 
retort. 

"  My  sister's  interests  will  always  be  as  sacred 
as  my  own,"  laying  his  hand  mockingly  on  his 
heart.  "Mamma,  what  delicious  muffins  your 
daughter  makes;  one  positively  grows  light- 
hearted  in  spite  of  possibilities  ;  I'm  a  good 
mind  to  carry  one  to  Stanton." 

"  Ray,"  said  his  mother,  "  when  will  you  get 
over  your  teasing  propensities  } " 

"  When  Olive  does  ;  apply  to  her  for  informa- 
tion, mamma." 

"You  are  a  fortunate  boy,  Raymond.  Not 
every  young  man  starts  out  on  such  an  errand 


RESUME. 

n  assumed  consterna- 

ave  answered  already 
It  arrived  yesterday  ? 
t  have  saved  postage 
le  vest-pocket  next  to 

rries  all  it  will  be  able 
,"   was    the    laughing 


vill  always  be  as  sacred 

land  mockingly  on  his 

delicious  muffins  your 

jositively  grows   ligbt- 

iibilities ;   I'm   a  good 

iton." 

r,  "  when  will  you  get 

sities  ? " 

)ply  to  her  for  informa- 

!  boy,  Raymond.     Not 
out  on  such  an  errand 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


319 


as  yours   to-day,  with  so  light  and  assured  a 
heart." 

"  Not  every  young  man  is  after  so  sweet  and 
sensible  a  young  lady." 

"  Indeed,  she  proves  it,  my  brother,"  inter- 
jected Olive  slyly,  while  Mr.  Gardenell  contin- 
ued :  — 

Her  sweetness  would  hardly  insure  her 
against  mistakes.  All  honor  to  her  faithful  and 
wise  mother." 

"  I  only  know  one  better,"  answered  Ray,  kiss- 
ing the  face  beside  him.  "And  Stanton  is  a 
royal  fellow.  I  have  only  one  fear,  and  that  is, 
that  when  he  reaches  missionary  age  we  will 
lose  him,  unless,"  glancing  at  his  sister,  "  unless 
some  one  is  able  to  convert  him  over  to  home 
missions." 

"  Imagine,"  said  Miso  Olive,  her  blue  eyes 
flashing  ominously,  "  imagine  any  one  thinking 
herself  able  to  turn  Stanton  Cartwright  from 
what  he  considers  God's  call.  And  imagine  any 
one  mean  enough  to  try  it." 


'««ao«»,. 


m 


320 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


r> 


"  Spoken  like  Olive  Gardenell,"  cried  Ray- 
mond, with  real  admiration.  "  Father,  you  will 
never  need  to  be  ashamed  of  your  daughter  or 
the  one  she  brings  you  for  your  blessing." 

Olive  laughed.  "  Since  Herbert  refuses  to  be 
anything  but  a  bachelor,"  she  said  gaily,  "  what 
is  left  for  me  but  to  share  his  fate  ?  '  I'll  never 
forsake  Micawber.' " 

"  Your  hand  on  that,  little  sister."  She  laid 
her  palm  unhesitatingly  in  the  one  extended  for 
it.  "  Bear  witness,  father,  mother,  all,"  Herbert 
said  as  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and  added  softly 
for  Olive's  ears  alone,  "  This  may  mean  another 
for  Africa." 


Olive  walked  to  the  depot  with  Ray,  kissed 
him  good-by,  and  said  "  Good  luck."  But  there 
was  a  great  lump  in  her  throat  which  her  brother 
discovered  and  tried  to  dissipate  by  his  added 
gayety  and  tenderness. 

"  Precious  little  Princess,  the  very  best  sister 
boy  ever  h^d,"  he  said,  as  he  pressed  his  lips  to 


UME. 

enell,"  cried  Ray- 
"  Father,  you  will 
f  your  daughter  or 
>ur  blessing," 
erbert  refuses  to  be 
e  said  gaily,  "  what 
s  fate  ?     '  I'll  never 

sister."  She  laid 
le  one  extended  for 
lother,  all,"  Herbert 
ips,  and  added  softly 
5  may  mean  another 


ot  with  Ray,  kissed 
)d  luck."  3ut  there 
)at  which  her  brother 
isipate  by  his  added 

,  the  very  best  sister 
le  pressed  his  lips  to 


A   WORTHY    RESUME. 


321 


hers ;  and  she  watched  the  train  out,  waving  her 
handkerchief,  and  turned  up  the  street  fighting 
back  the  tears. 

She  stopped  suddenly  half-way  home  and 
turned  toward  the  old  schoolhouse,  a  minute 
later  entering  the  sitting-room  of  the  little  yel- 
low ell. 

There  sat  Miss  Jennie  Ralison.  "  How  fresh 
you  look,  my  dear,"  the  lady  sait^  as  Olive  drew 
a  hassock  to  her  feet  and  droppcv'  her  head  in 
her  lap. 

How  wrinkled  and  feeble  her  dear  Je  had 
grown  ;  the  giri  noticed  it  as  never  before  as  she 
looked  up  to  the  placid  face. 

"Everything  changes,"  she  broke  out  tem- 
pestuously. "  Why  can't  we  keep  things  as  they 
are  always  —  bright  and  fresh  and  ours  ?  I'll  be 
old  and  wrinkled  some  day.  Dear  Je,  I  feel  dis- 
mal to-day." 

That  isn't  like  our  sunshine,"  commented 
Miss  Jennie. 
"No,  it  isn't.     But ~ but   Ray  has  gone  to 


322 


A    WORTHY    RESUME. 


get  him  a  wife,"  and  down  went  the  brown  head 
with  a  little  sob.  What  could  her  friend  do  but 
caress  the  dusky  crown,  and  wait  till  the  shower 
was  over  ? 

"  'Tis  a  wicked  little  weep  and  you  ought  to 
scold  me,"  said  the  wayward  child,  raising  her 
face.  "  I  love  Gatty,  oh  !  so  much ;  and  it 
would  be  dreadful  for  Ray  to  look  at  another 
girl,  but  —  but  —  oh,  dear  !  one  does  like  to  own 
their  friends  and  keep  them  for  just  their  own," 
with  another  wee  storm. 

Ju«'  then  some  one  stepped  through  the 
kitchen  and  halted  at  the  sitting-room  door. 
Miss  Johanna  had  been  marketing.  Old  as  she 
was  she  yet  superintended  all  of  their  affairs, 
and  looked  younger  now  than  her  sister.  She 
stopped  in  a  sort  of  dismay,  bonnet  and  shawl 
still  on,  at  sight  of  the  little  figure  bowed  at  her 
sister's  feet. 

"  What  >  Tommy  isn't  crying !  "  she  said,  in 
such  real  astonishment,  that  Olive  laughed  in 
spite  of  her  blues. 


RESUME. 

rn  went  the  brown  head 
could  her  friend  do  but 
and  wait  till  the  shower 

weep  and  you  ought  to 
^ward  child,  raising  her 
oh  !    so   much;   and   it 

to  look  at  another 
!  one  does  like  to  own 

for  just  their  own," 


A    WORTHY    RESUME. 


323 


Ray 


ar 


lem 


;  stepped  through  the 
the  sitting-room  door, 
marketing.  Old  as  she 
ided  all  of  their  affairs, 
(W  than  her  sister.  She 
ismay,  bonnet  and  shawl 
little  figure  bowed  at  her 

n't  crying  !  "  she  said,  in 
it,  that   Olive  laughed  in 


"  Only  a  miserable  little  selfish  drizzle,  Miss 
Jo,"  she  said  penitently.  "I'm  dreadfully 
ashamt-'d  of  myself.  Ray  has  gone  to  Main-;  for 
a  wife,  and  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  how  mean  I 
am. 

"Miss  Gatty  isn't  going  to  carry  Raymond 
off,  is  she  }  "  inquired  Miss  Jo  innocently.  "  I 
thought  he  was  the  thief  in  this  case.  These 
things  are  much  as  we  take  them.  Tommy  ;  ad- 
dition or  subtraction.  I  always  did  like  addition 
best.  Two  girls  are  none  too  many  in  a  family, 
and  it  wouldn't  be  good  for  Mr.  Ray  to  go  off 
preaching  alone.  You  can't  well  go  with  him, 
for  then  what  would  father  and  mother  and  Her- 
bert do,  I  wonder  ? " 

"  I  will  never  ask  them.  Miss  Jo,  you  are 
splendid.  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  bear ;  I  couldn't 
cat  my  breakfast.  What  have  you  got  in  this 
house  that  is  nice  ?  "  getting  up  and  shaking  her- 
self. "  I  feel  better.  I  wonder  which  did  the 
most  good,  your  philosophy  or  my  showers  ?  " 
"Both,"    answered    Mi3S     Jo    sc   tentiously. 


^!i 


* 


P  ' 


324 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


••What's  in  had  better  come  out,  and  there's 
nothing  healthier  than  showers  in  spring,  or 
more  natural,  cither.  Don't  you  begin  to  stifle 
your  feelings  and  brood  over  things  until  they 
become  mountains  to  crush  you.  Jennie,  Tommy 
must  have  a  gingerbread  horse.  Where  is  that 
one  we  baked  yesterday  ?  There,"  as  it  was  pro- 
duced, •'  I  always  believed  advice  and  medicine 
belonged  together.  There's  an  old  maid's  rem- 
edy, sweets  for  the  young." 

Then  Olive's  laugh  rang  merrily  through  the 
little  house.  Hers  was  such  a  musical  laugh  — 
like  her  mamma's,  Papa  Gardenell  said,  and  sug- 
gestive of  a  spring  full  of  robins.  She  said  be- 
tween her  laughing,  "  I  must  bite,"  and  off  she 
nipped  the  tail,  with  a  doleful  little  sigh  as  she 
remembered  Ray  always  did  that  in  other  days, 
••I  suppose  I'm  robbing  some  poor  child,  but 
I  can't  help  it.     Miss  Jo,  what  a  comfort  you 

are." 

"Prof.  Germaine,"  said  this  same  young  lady 
ten  minutes  later,  as  that  gentleman  drew  his 


RESUME. 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


325 


come  out,  and  there's 
showers  in  spring,  or 
on't  you  begin  to  stifle 
over  things  until  they 
ish  you.  Jennie,  Tommy 
J  horse.  Where  is  that 
'  There,"  as  it  was  pro- 
ed  advice  and  medicine 
ere's  an  old  maid's  rem- 

ang  merrily  through  the 

such  a  musical  laugh  — 

Gardenell  said,  and  sug- 

of  robins.     She  said  be- 

must  bite,"  and  off  she 

doleful  little  sigh  as  she 

s  did  that  in  other  days, 

ing  some  poor  child,  but 

Jo,  what  a  comfort  you 

lid  this  same  young  lady 
that  gentleman  drew  his 


carriage  to  the  curb  to  greet  her,  "don't  you 
want  to  drive  me  home  this  beautiful  morning?" 
"I'm  aching  for  the  privilege,  my  dear, '  smil- 
ing,  as  he  helped  her  to  the  seat  beside  him. 
"  Hut  seeing  you  are  suffering  from  your  old 
c()mi)laint,  chronic  cheerfulness,  I  would  like  to 
borrow  you  awhile  first,  to  call  with  mc  on  a 
lady  who  has  an  acute  attack  of  the  blues." 

"Poor  dear,"    ighed  Olive,  "I  pity  her,  but  I 
have  an  infallible  cure." 

"Ah!  tried  it  yourself,  I  suppose,"  answered 
the  gentleman  quizzically. 
"Yes,  sir;  and  this  very  morning." 
An  amused  smile  flitted  over  the  professor's 
face.     "  Olive,  you  ought  to  thank  the  Lord  for 
your  heritage  of  pure,  strong,  healthful  life  from 
a  godly  father  and  mother." 
"  I  do." 

"  That  much  advantage  the  poorest  Christian 
man  or  woman  has  over  the  wealthiest  unbe- 
liever, his  faith  grows  courage  and  cheerfulness, 
and  his  offspring  reap  the  benefit.     This  lady 


I 


lit 


11)1      ! 


326 


A   WORTHY   RESUME. 


whcin  we  are  to  visit  has  'blue'  blood  in  the 
fullest  sense  of  the  word.  I  suppose  you  ad\^er- 
tise  this  nostrum  of  yours  like  other  quackeries, 
'  no  cure,  no  pay .' '  " 

"  No  pay  indeed  !  Prof.  Germaine,  did  I  not 
tell  you  the  cure  was  positive }  I'm  half  a  mind 
to  be  offended.  You  have  no  faith  in  me  ;  you 
call  me  a  quack." 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  dear,  I  believe  you  are 
just  the  medicine  I  am  after,  and  the  best  thing 
possible  I  can  carry  my  friend." 

"  That's  because  I  swallowed  my  own  remedy 
twenty  minutes  ago." 

"  I  grow  curious  ;  this  cure-all  is  "  — 

"  An  old  maid  and  a  gingerbread  horse." 


IV. 


I'S        i 


aa.. 


««M»w»«ae«sssw?*:i*«*w-*'««"'-«^*»«'******* 


!■  I        I. 


In  1833  the  wife  of  Horace  Mann  speni  the 
winter  in  Cuba  under  circumstances  extremely 
favorable  to  an  intimate  knowledge  of  life  tliure ; 
but  was  under  a  double  restraint  from  nialcing  a 
boolc,  a  close  and  sympathetic  friendship  and  nu- 
merous hospitalities. 

•  Nevertheless  the  book  was  written,  but  kept  for 
fifty  years  till  the  death  of  the  lost  of  her  friends 
who  figured  in  it 

JimnitA,  a  Itntnanoc  of  Koftl  Tlfo  In  Cuba  Fifty  Tears  A|ki. 
By  Mnry  Mann  (ivifo  of  llori\<n  M:uui,  sister  of  Mri.  Ilaw- 
tliorno  and  of  tlip  venerable  Klizabelh  I'cabndy).  436  pugci. 
Uiuo,  cloth,  $1.50. 

It  Is  less  a  romance  than  a  fragment  of  history; 
less  a  histor}'  than  an  impassioned  picture  of  hu- 
man life  above  and  below  incredible  greed  and 
cruelty;  less  a  picture  tlian  protest.  Ami,  coming 
at  this  lat«  day  when  freedom  has  blessed  both 
slave  and  master,  it  gives  a  new  zest  to  liberty. 
It  draws  the  reader  from  page  to  page  not  so 
much  by  the  arts  and  resources  of  Action  as  by  an 
overmastering  sympathy. 

It  is  not  another  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin;  and  the 
times  are  kindlier.    But  the  book  must  be  read. 


A  writer  who  keeps  his  name  to  himself  had 
been  telling  his  children  what  lieraUlry  had  to  do 
with  our  stars  and  stripes,  with  the  seals  of  the 
United  States,  and  of  the  States  themselves.  "  It 
occurred  to  him  "  —  what  are  we  not  indebted  to 
children  for? — "  that  heraldry,  brilliant  witli  mem- 
ories of  tournaments  and  hard-won  victories, 
might  interest "  other  youngsters.  Hence  a  play- 
ful book  of  careful  enough  research  into  heraldic 
history,  legends,  usages,  meanings,  proprieties. 

Dame  Heraldry  IIT  illustratioDs,  271  pages.  8to,  doth, 
IS.60. 


J.i 


;  ,;:i  1 


m 


|i      ! 


There  is  nothing  more  refreshing  to  pick  np  In 
odd  minutes  than  a  hrlglit  collection  out  of  the 
poetry  of  all  time  of  the  >)rlghtest  on  almost  no 
matter  what  subject,  even  the  weather. 

flirough  tlio  Year  with  tlio  Poets,  edited  by  Oscar  Fay 
Adams.  A  volume  n  mouth  of  about  140  pag:c8  each,  with 
ample  indices.  16mo,  cloth,  75  cents  each ;  parti-colorcd  cloth, 
91.00. 

And  dainty  book-making  has  much  to  do  with 
the  pleasure  of  scidppy  reading. 


New  Every  Morning,  a  year-book  for  girls,  by 
Annie  H.  Uyder,  is  a  helpful  thought  or  two,  out  of 
current  writers  mainly,  for  every  day  in  the  year ; 
not  religious,  but  chosen  for  serious  aptitude  to 
the  state  of  things  in  the  world  we  live  in.  196 
pages.     Square  Klmo,  clotli.  <]il.00 

Notable  Prayers  of  Cliristian  Ilisiory.  By  Hez- 
ekiah  Buttcrworth.  So  far  as  we  k.iow,  there  lo 
no  other  i)ook  in  wliich  are  gathered  tlie  notable 
prayers  of  dcvoui.  men  of  all  times  with  tlieir 
biograpliical  and  liistorical  connections.  304  pages. 
l6mo,  cloth,  1.00. 


Let  not  the  bookseller  venture  a  word  on  sc  al)- 
Btruse  a  subject  as  Browning. 

Christmas  Eve  and  Easter  Day,  and  Other  Poems.  By 
Robert  Browning.  Introduction  by  W.  J.  llolfo.  The  Theory 
of  Robert  Browninjf  ponccrning  Personal  Immortality  by 
ITcloiseEdwinallei-sej.  With  notes.  175pag!».  16mo,  cloth, 
75  cents. 

For  Browning  Classes  and  Clubs.  The  text  is 
In  very  generous  type. 


Faith  and  Action  is  an  F.  D.  Maurice  Anthology. 
Preface  by  Pliillips  Brooks.  The  subjects  are: 
Life,  Men,  Reforms,  Books,  Art,  Duty,  A-spira- 
tion,  Faith.    209  pages.     12mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 


•    I      I 


a 


'\  t 


eshing  to  pick  up  In 
oUection  out  of  the 
ghtest  on  almost  no 
I  weather. 

ta,  edited  by  Oscar  F»y 
ut  140  pages  cacli,  with 
each ;  purti-colorcd  clotha 

las  much  to  do  with 

ng- 

ir-book  for  girls,  by 
liought  or  two,  out  of 
/my  (Jay  in  the  year; 
serious  aptitude  to 
)rld  we  live  in.  196 
jil.OO 

in  lllsiory.  By  Hez- 
is  wt)  k.iow,  there  io 
fathered  the  notable 
bU  times  with  tlieir 
inectlous.  301  pages. 


ure  a  word  on  sc  alj- 

nnd  Other  Pocini.  By 
W.  J.  Itolfc.  Tlie  Theory 
Personal  Immortality  by 
I.    175  pag  'S.   16mo,  cloth, 

[  Clubs.    The  text  is 


.  Maurice  Anthology. 
The  subjects  are: 
,  Art,  Duty,  Aspira- 
10,  cloth,  $1.00. 


Quite  a  new  sort  of  history.  Scliool  days  oyer, 
four  girl  friends  return  to  their  homes  and  life 
begins.  As  often  hapiMJUs,  life  Is  not  as  they 
picture  it.  What  It  was  for  tlic  four  and  how 
they  met  it  you  shall  read  In  the  quiet  book. 

By  ChriBtiua  Uoodwiu.     196  pages. 


After  School  Days. 
Umo,  doth,  tl.OO. 


It  Is  a  comforting  fact  a  liionsand  times  that 
nobody  knows,  to  be  sure  of  it,  what  Is  good  for 
him  or  her.  Disappointments  are  often  shorn  of 
their  bitterness  by  the  remembrance  of  It.  Often 
what  we  look  forward  to,  hope  for,  strive  i'or, 
make  ourselves  anxious  about,  turns  out  to  be  of 
no  particular  value ;  and  wl  at  we  fear  and  strive 
against  turns  out  good  fortune.  Itorely  is  this 
practical  wl.ndora  made  so  sure  as  in  this  whole- 
some history  out  of  the  stuff  that  dreams  are 
made  of. 


A  practical  help  for  a  girl  to  surround  herself 
with  pleasant  things  without  much  shopping.  The 
book  Is  mainly  llllcd  with  ways  to  exercise  taste 
on  waste  or  plcked-up  things  for  use  with  an  eye 
to  decoration  as  well. 

For  n  Girl's  Room.  By  Some  Friends  of  the  OirU.  236 
pages.    12mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 

A  friendly  sort  of  a  book  to  fill  odd  nlnutes, 
whether  at  home  or  out,  for  herself  or  another. 
By  no  means  on  "  fancy-work  "  — not  all  work  — 
Chapter  XXI  Is  How  to  Tame  Bh-ds  and  XXV  la 
What  to  Do  !n  Emergencies. 


t: 


3 


!   I 


1  1 


When  a  novel-writer  makes  a  girl  so  nncon- 
fclously  bright  and  catching  In  the  very  first  chap- 
ter he  must  not  complain  If  the  reader  mUes  her 
up  in  a  plot  of  his  own. 

Romano*  of »  Letter.  By  LoweU  Cho«e.  SSflpigen.  Umo, 
dotb,  $^.2i. 

But  we  are  not  going  to  spoil  a  good  story  by 
letting  the  least  of  Its  secrets  out. 


Whether  city  boys  go  to  the  country  or  country 
boys  go  to  the  city  wonderful  things  are  experi- 
enced. 

BoyiofCaryFann.  By  Minn*  Caroline  Smith.  313  page*. 
12mo,  cloth,  (1.25. 

The  story  lies  between  Chicago  and  Iowa. 
The  boys  get  mixed  up  variously.  It  is  a  Sunday 
School  book  to  this  extent :  The  boys  are  good 
boys  and  the  girls  are  good  girls ;  the  seeing  and 
doing  are  all  well  meant  if  they  are  a  trifle  ad- 
venturous here  and  there. 


The  Spare   Minute  strles  of  anthologies  Is  en- 
riched by  one  from  Ruskln. 

Thoughts  of  Beauty  from  John  Biukin.    By  Bow  Porter. 
186  pages.    12mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 

•'  I  have  confined  myscJ  to  his  discoveries  on 
Nature,  Morals  and  Religion:  tratherlng  for  your 
perusal  revelations  of  the  blessed  wonders  of  sky 
and  cloud,  mountain  and  rock,  trees,  mosses,  and 
the  green  grass,  birds  of  the  air,  and  flowers,  and 
the  marvelous  coloring  all  these  display  which  In 
beauty  of  hue  and  delicacy  of  tinting  as  far  out- 
pass  the  works  of  man  as  the  heavens  are  higher 
tbau  the  e&rUi."— From  The  lutroduiUion. 


t 

L 


es  a  girl  bo  nncon* 
n  the  very  first  chap- 
he  reader  mixes  her 

:nu»te.   SMpkge*.   Umo, 

poll  A  good  Btory  by 

3  out. 


le  country  or  country 
ul  things  are  esperl- 

;aroItnc  Smith. 

Chicago  and  Iowa. 
)U9ly.  It  Is  a  Sunday 
:  The  boys  are  good 
girls;  the  seeing  and 
they  are  a  trifle  ad- 


}  of  anthologies  Is  en- 
Biukin.    By  Eo«e  Porter. 

to  his  discoveries  on 
n :  catherlng  for  your 
blessed  wonders  of  sky 
)clc,  trees,  mosses,  and 
le  air,  and  flowers,  and 
these  display  which  in 
y  of  tinting  as  far  out- 
the  heavens  are  higher 
« Introduction. 


Dorothy  Thorn  is  a  flrst-class  Amerl«an  ncvel. 

By  which  we  do  not  mean  to  dcchirc  the  author 
a  Walter  Scott  on  his  second  book.  The  world 
may  take  its  time  and  rate  him  as  it  will;  but 
Dorothy  Thorn  we  are  surt-  of. 

It  begins  as  life  begins,  wherever  we  pick  up 
the  threads  of  it,  human.  It  goes  on  the  same. 
The  tale  Is  a  sketch  of  not-surprising  events. 
There  is  not  an  incident  told  In  the  book  that  does 
not  seem  tame  in  the  telling,  tame  with  the  unro- 
mantic  commonplace  of  life ;  and  yet  there  Is  not 
a  spot  where  the  people  forget  their  parts  or  hesi- 
tate for  words  or  foil  to  suit  the  action  to  them : 
and,  however  easy  the  pages,  the  chapters  move 
with  cunsclous  strength;  and  the  whole  is  one; 
it  falls  with  the  force  of  a  blow. 

There  Is  a  moral  to  Dorothy  Thorn ;  there  are 
more  than  one.  She  Is  made  to  live  for  something 
beyond  the  reader's  diversion.  What  that  purpose 
is,  or  what  those  purposes  are,  is  not  set  down  In 
the  book ;  but  nobody  reads  and  asks.  It  is  high 
in  the  sense  of  being  good ;  and  good  In  the  sense 
of  being  succc.48ful.  It  touches  the  question  of 
questions,  work ;  and  the  wisdom  comes  from  two 
women  who  do  not  work.  It  touches  never  so 
lightly  the  rising  question,  the  sphere  of  woman  — 
the  wisdom  on  that  is  said  in  a  dozen  words  by  a 
woman  who  has  never  given  her  "spiiere"  an 
anxious  thought. 

Dorotliy  Thorn  of  Thoniton.  By  Jullim  Wwtli.  276  page<t. 
Umo,  clotli,  (I1.2S. 

There  is  hardly  a  less  promising  condition  out 
of  which  to  write  a  novel  than  having  a  hobl)y  to 
ride ;  and  of  hobbles  what  can  be  less  picturesque 
than  the  question  how  we  who  work  and  we  who 
direct  ate  going  to  get  on  together  hai-moniouslyf 

t 


But,  when  a  novel  Is  full  of  every  lii{?h  natlsf ac- 
tion, refreshment  ami  gratillcatlon  In  spite  of  Its 
cirrylnj?  freight  of  practical  wisdom,  or  rather, 
when  wlsdo  n  itself  U  a  part  <if  tlie  feast  ami  the 
flow  of  soul  s  all  thcmor<!  refreshing  for  it,  then, 
wc  take  it,  that  novel  stands  apart  from  the  novels 
of  any  time  or  .oiintry.  And  such  Is  tlio  Dorothy 
Thorn  of  JiiUin  Warth.  Not  the  loftlest'ftlght  of 
imagination;  simple  in  ph,t  — irdecd  there  Is  no 
plot  — the  passing  of  time  lets  the  story  Ro  on, 
and  It  goes  the  easy  way ;  and,  when  It  Is  done,  it 
Is  done.  We  close  the  booit  with  r.griit.  Tho 
cxaltAtion  has  passed;  and  we  are  again  in  the 
world  wliere  wisdom  is  tame  and  common  tilings 
bereft  of  their  dignity.  But  we  have  sat  witli  the 
gods  and  the  nectar  was  heavenly. 


Stories  have  not  run  ont;  but  we  often  think, 
as  wc  read  somn  quaint  and  simple  tale  that  be- 
longs to  another  time  or  people,  "  how  good  the 
stories  were  in  those  days!  "  or  "  they  are  better 
story-tellers  than  ours!"  Tlie  truth  is,  good 
stories  are  rare  and  live  forever.  To-day  may 
lose  them ;  to-morrow  finds  them. 

SwinK  StoricK  for  ClilMren  and  for  tliosc  who  Love  Children. 
From  the  (icrmaii  of  Mftrliiine  Spyri  by  Lucy  Wlieclock.  214 
pa(((^s.    I2ino,  vlolii,  $1.00. 

So  true  to  child  life  and  family  life,  they  belong 
to  us  IS  truly  as  to  the  Swiss  mountaineers. 

Some  of  these  have  delighted  English  cars 
before. 


':^ 


)f  every  Wjxh  «atlsfac- 
llcatlon  In  spite  of  Its 
al  wisdom,  or  rather, 
■t  of  tlic  feast  ami  the 

rcfreshins  for  '•■>  '■^c"' 
i  apart  from  the  novels 
lid  Huch  Is  tlio  Dorothy 
ot  tlie  loftiest  ftlght  of 
t  —  indeed  there  Is  no 
lets  the  story  go  on, 
ind,  when  It  Is  done,  it 
wit  with  r.Rret.  The 
d  we  are  again  in  the 
ne  and  common  things 
It  we  have  sat  wlUi  the 
avenly. 

;;  but  we  often  think, 
id  simple  tale  that  lie- 
;)eople,  "  how  good  the 
or  "  they  are  better 
Tlie  truth  is,  good 
forever.  To-day  may 
s  them. 

for  those  who  Love  Children, 
lyri  by  Lury  Wlirclock.    2U 

family  life,  they  belong 
rlss  mountaineers, 
[telighted    English  cars 


As  a  people  we  hold  opinious  concerning  th* 
rest  of  the  world  notoriously  inccmplet*.  A  boolc 
that  makes  us  familiar  with  life  abroad  as  it 
really  is  Is  a  public  beueflt  as  well  as  a  source  of 
pleasure. 

The  common  saying  goes :  there  is  nothing  like 
travel  for  opening  one's  eyes  to  the  size  of  tlio 
world,  to  the  diversity  of  ways  of  thinking  and 
living,  and  to  the  very  little  cliancc  of  our  having 
hit  on  the  true  interpretation  of  evcrytliing;  no 
education  Is  so  broadening.  liut  it  is  true  that 
few  have  the  aptness  at  seeing  stiange  things  in  a 
way  to  ceinprelicnd  tlicm;  and  to  sec  und  niis< 
judge  is  almost  worse  tiiau  not  to  sec  at  all. 

There  is  no  preparation  for  travel  or  substiiiite 
for  it  that  goes  so  far  towards  mending  our  recep- 
tivity or  ignorance  as  an  agreeable  book  that 
really  takes  one  into  the  whole  of  ttic  life  one  pro- 
poses to  study.  There  is  au  excellent  one  out  just 
now. 

Life  Aw'^g  the  Oi-rmsns.  By  Emiua  Louisa  Parry.  340 
ptgea.    12mo,  clutb,  $1.&0. 

The  wonder  of  it  is  :  It  is  written  by  a  student- 
girl! —  that  a  glr!  has  the  judgment,  tlie  tact,  the 
Hclf-suppressing  watchfuhicss,  the  adaptability, 
freshness  and  readiness,  teachableness,  the  charm- 
ing spirit  and  manner  that  lets  her  into  the  inside 
view  of  everything,  makes  her  welcome  In  liomcs 
and  intimate  social  gatherings,  not  as  one  of 
themselves,  but  as  a  foreigner-hiarner ;  and  added 
io  all  these  splendid  endowments  the  gift  of  easy- 
flowing  narrative,  light  in  fecliny  and  f-.:"  of  bab- 
etance ! 

Tlie  book  Is  wonderfully  full  in  the  sense  of 
solidity.  Sentence  piled  on  sentence.  Little  dis- 
course; all  o1)servation ;  participation.  You  see 
and  shnru;  ;!uU  you  rise  from  the  reading,  not 


with  «  Jnmblc  of  anconnected  Informfttlon,  but 
with  a  clear  IraprcusJon  of  having  mot  tho  ppoplo 
and  lived  In  the  fatherUnd.  You  knuw  the  rter- 
nians  an  you  might  not  get  to  know  them  If  you 
lived  for  »  year  or  two  among  them. 


Kobodr  but  Mm.  Diaz  could  get  so  mnch  wit, 
good  sense,  and  bright  nonscDso  out  of  barn 
lectures  before  an  audience  of  nine  by  a  philoso- 
pher of  eight  years  and  a  month.  But  trust  the 
author  of  the  Cat  Book,  the  William  Henry  Letters, 
Lucy  Maria,  Polly  Cologne  and  the  Jlmmyjobns. 

The  John  Splcer  Lectuwi.  E/  Abby  Morton  Dial.  »9 
pAKCi.    IBnio,  to  centi. 

All  In  perfect  gravity.  Tlicse  are  the  subjects : 
Christmas  Tree.  Knives,  Swapping,  Clothes,  Food, 
Money.  And  the  passages  where  tho  applause 
came  In  are  noted.  Tho  applause  and  groans  are 
often  Irjportaot  parts  of  the  text. 

Excellent  reading  are  sketches  of  eminent  men 
and  wowcn  If  only  they  are  bright  enough  to 
make  one  wish  they  were  longer.  A  great  deal 
of  Insight  Into  history,  character,  human  nature, 
is  to  be  got  from  just  such  sketches. 
Hero  are  two  bookf  nls  of  them : 
Btorlei!  of  Gre<it  Men  «.  1  Storln  of  BcmirkaUe  Women. 
Both  by  F»yo  HunUngton.  IM  ujd  9»  pages.  lOmo,  cloth, 
to  cents  each. 

Both  the  great  men  and  remarkable  women,  of 
whom  by  the  way  there  are  twenty-six  and  twenty- 
two,  are  chosen  from  many  sorts  of  eminence; 
but  they  arc  sketched  In  a  way  to  draw  from  the 
life  of  each  some  pleasant  practical  lesson.  Not 
designed  for  Sunday  Schools  apparently  j  but  good 
there. 


5cted  lnfonn«tloiJ,  but 
having  met  tlio  ppopla 
a.  You  knuw  the  Olt- 
!t  to  know  them  If  you 
ong  them. 

could  Rct  so  much  wit, 
nonscDso  out  of  barn 
:o  of  nine  by  a  phlloso- 
i  month.  But  trust  the 
B  William  Henry  Letters, 
0  and  the  Jlmmyjohns. 
B/  Abby  Morton  Dim.    W 

Tlicse  are  the  subjects : 
Iwapplng,  Clothes,  Food, 
res  where  the  applause 
applause  and  groans  are 

the  text. 


ketches  of  eminent  men 
•y  are  bright  enough  to 
•e  longer.  A  great  deal 
iharacter,  human  nature, 
Eh  sketches, 
of  them : 

Stories  of  Itemmrkable  Women. 
138  »nd99  pages.   lOmo,  cloth, 

id  remarkable  women,  of 
,re  twenty-six  and  tweuty- 
nany  sorts  of  eminence; 
n  a  way  to  draw  from  the 
mt  practical  lesson.  Not 
lools  apparently ;  but  good 


